A Mighty Fine Predicament
by lizinfected
Summary: About two weeks after the Opera; Graverobber grudgingly takes Shilo under his wing, and both characters struggle with themseleves, life, new faces, and dark secrets. Nothing is what it seems. Everything is changing. POV of Shilo, GR, and others.
1. A Mighty Fine Predicament

**_Disclaimer: I don't own the fabulous world of Repo! The Genetic Opera. Save the original charactors, all this belongs to Mr. Zdunich and the gang._**

**_Author Note: If you read this, take a second of your time to R&R. It'll be much appreciated._**

The night was hot and humid. Loud music played in an underground rock club down the road, thumping in tune with the flickering streetlight. He leaned against the brick wall, head bowed and arms crossed. It was late, and she'd promised to meet him a half hour ago.

_Thunk. Thunk. _Heavy boots on concrete melded in with the other sounds of nighttime in the city. He looked up. Emilie was striding forward quickly, a harried expression on her face. With a huff she leaned next to him on the wall.

"Here," she said, slipping a piece of paper into the crease of his arm.

He looked at her coldly. "You're late again."

"The subway broke down. Third time this month. I should call someone."

He ignored her comment and opened up the dirty piece of notebook paper. Emilie's handwriting was scrawled, barely legible. He suspected that she'd remembered the date at the last minute and copied the info he needed from the coroner's books on the slick. But that was alright-he wouldn't complain. He'd only give her weak Zydrate to compensate for his wasted time.

_Randolph Packer, 42; died Wednesday, August the 2__nd__; service at 8:00 am Saturday, Bishop Hall Church Cemetery._

_Elisa Devons, 21; died Friday, August the 4__th__; service at 9:30 am Saturday, Bishop Hall Church Cemetery._

The list continued with other deaths, some recent, some not. Emilie wasn't punctual, but at least she was accurate.

"Thank you." Despite the circumstances, he could at least pretend to be a gentleman. He handed her a vial of Z.

Emilie accepted her payment, hesitated for a second, then smiled coyly. "So, Mr. Mysterious…when will I get a real name and number?"

He almost ignored her. Instead, he gave her a stony look and said, not for the first time, "Graverobber. My name is Graverobber."

Without a second glance he turned on his heel and walked away.

_My name is Graverobber. _It might as well have been true. He'd worked hard to try and forget his given name. It hadn't worked, but Graverobber was an excellent liar. Even to himself.

The street was dank and seedy, but Graverobber still enjoyed his time here. The lights from the neon signs glowed like a dream, and he didn't have to hide his face. Patrol cars never came to this part of the city, and no one would report him; they were almost all his customers, and he was far too valuable to trade in for reward money.

Graverobber passed a mumbling junkie on the sidewalk and grabbed his wrist. The little punk had most likely stole the expensive watch that was there; no way had someone with green spikes on his head and a Z-glow in the eyes personally bought a Rolex. Graverobber checked the time- 10:00 pm. He still had an hour or two to kill before work, and hadn't slept since two o'clock the day before. Graverobber dropped the kid's wrist, who hadn't even noticed his presence, and made a detour down the alley a few feet away. A roomy dumpster was there, a familiar place where he was used to taking a quick nap before a job.

"Knock, knock," he said, tapping the green top with the flat of his hand. When you were in his line of work, you became accustomed to talking with inanimate objects, and yourself.

"Who's there?" he muttered, opening dumpster lid. The smell hit him like-

"A pile of fucking garbage," he answered himself.

Graverobber pulled a vial of Z from his pocket and shined it over the dumpster to check for broken glass, stray animals, or, possibly, another human.

"Score…" he smiled. A girl was lying on the pile of trash- facedown, lifeless, and looking newly dead. Fresh Z.

Graverobber pulled out his Zydrate gun and spun it once in his hand, whistling a cowboy dirge.

"This dumpster ain't big enough for the both of us, little lady."

He jumped in, landing next to the body with a thud. He turned the girl over, took a look at her face, and felt his stomach drop.

"…kid?"

Shilo was pale as usual, an innocent and almost thoughtful look on her face. One thing was different about the kid, though, and that was her hair. It was thicker looking, a little wavy, and came just below her ears, poking out in all directions.

"Stupid kid…" Graverobber muttered, almost sadly. Shilo Wallace had been the topic of a lot of hype for weeks; her face had been everywhere. After a while, though, no one had heard anything from her, and the story slowly moved to the backburner. Graverobber had thought she'd left the city and ran as far away as she could. After all, he'd done the same thing in a similar situation, many years ago. But he'd never expected to find her dead in a dumpster.

"Oh well…a professional is never wasteful."

Graverobber shook his head once, then pressed the needle to Shilo's skin.

With a twitch and a gasp, the kid's eyes flew open. Graverobber almost dropped the Zydrate gun.

"Grave …." Shilo's lashes fluttered, and she went limp.

Graverobber was still for a moment, then lowered his ear to the kid's chest. She was breathing. Now was the hard part. Graverobber swallowed. She was alive. Could he leave her in this dumpster and go on with his business like nothing had happened? Had he stifled his conscience enough over the years for this? Did she even need him? After all, no one had been there to help him at her age, and he'd turned out just fine. When he had to do unimaginable things, just for food, he survived. Alone, he survived….

Shilo was almost weightless when Graverobber hoisted her over his shoulder. With a small grunt he jumped out of the dumpster, and headed back down the alley.


	2. The Glow

Graverobber stopped at the alley entrance. He could get away with most things, but he wasn't sure an unconscious teenager over his shoulder was the best way to walk down the street. Graverobber slipped Shilo down to where she was pressed to his side. He clutched the kid firmly by the waist and moved her arm around his neck. This way, at least, it looked as if he was helping some drunk girl down the road. Not a completely unlikely occurrence.

He walked with some difficulty. Shilo was dead weight, and he was getting worried he'd pop her arm from its socket. No one gave him a second glance, and as he continued on his way the crowds of people, bars, and clubs became empty warehouses and homeless squatters. Graverobber counted silently to himself.

…_Four…five…_

He stopped in front of the sixth building. It had once been an office, or a bank, but was now a brown and derelict monument to urban decay. The windows were all painted black from the inside. Graverobber approached one, and rapped his knuckles against the glass.

"Appointment, regular, or new customer?" A muffled, bored sounding voice asked from within.

Graverobber scratched his nails down the glass.

"Oh. It's you."

There was a grunt, and the window was pushed open.

She had once confided to him that her real name was Marianna, but no one called her that. Blue was in her early twenties, with caramel-colored skin, soft features, and a vibrant pile of blue dreadlocks on her head.

Blue smacked her gum and smiled. "You're here early, sweetheart. Doors unlocked." Her eyes shifted to Shilo, then quickly widened in shock.

"Who's that?"

"Open the door."

Blue cast Shilo's immobile body a nervous glance, then nodded and closed the window. A moment later she was holding open the heavy door for Graverobber. He quickly pushed past and moved Shilo from his side to his arms. The kid felt kike she hadn't eaten anything for a month.

Graverobber didn't know how long The Glow had been open. Its owner, Madame Scarlett, had been letting him stay there for almost five years now. He'd been selling Z to the bordello when Scarlett discovered that he was sleeping in a dumpster. She had a soft spot for him and refused to let this continue. They had a deal- he'd trade her Z for room and board. The girls and their gratitude was a perk, too.

"What the fuck, man," Blue said. "She dead?"

"No. Get your mother."

Blue scurried up the stairs, past the half naked women lounging on the steps. The girls not preoccupied with a customer were gazing at Graverobber curiously, some beginning to trickle in from the kitchen and lounge rooms. He ignored them, staring intently at Shilo. If she woke up, what would he do with her? He didn't have the time or desire to take care of a kid, like a lost puppy.

"What's all this ruckus about?" The Madame was moving swiftly down the steps, hands on her wide hips and voice booming. Her unfathomably huge bosom shook as she walked, a continent under the flowing red muumuu. She stopped in front of Graverobber, like a garbage truck hitting the breaks.

"It's not like you to bring home strays, Graverobber. Must be going soft in your old age. Who's the girl?"

Graverobber ignored the question. "Will she be okay?"

Damn. What was this? Concern? Maybe he was going soft.

Scarlett pursed her thickly painted lips and squeezed Shilo's thin wrist.

"Should be, once she gets some rest and good. How long she been out?"

"Don't know. I just found her."

The Madame sighed, and patted her teased hair. "Look, I don't have the room to put up some girl who isn't working. She can stay, but it has to be with you."

Graverobber nodded, and began to walk towards the back of the stairs. Scarlett grabbed his elbow.

"Why are you going through all this bother? I know it isn't my business…"

"You're right. It isn't." Graverobber replied. He walked behind the stairs and down a hallway, feeling annoyed with himself. At the end of the hall was a narrow flight of stairs. He easily found his way down in the dark, to a door. He opened this and walked inside, pulling on a light and slamming the door behind him.

This basement room was once spacious, but most of the left side had caved in years ago. The rest of the room was filled with storage boxes, a small bed, some wooden crates, and a long plastic table.

Graverobber laid Shilo down gently on his bed. The kid looked no healthier under the yellow light from the swinging bulb then she had outside. Graverobber dropped his heavy coat to the ground and pulled a few vials of Z from the pouch at his waist. He stuck these into an old and scratched candelabra to light the room a little more, then sat down on the floor. Graverobber leaned against the wall and watched Shilo sleep, her chest rising and falling as her breathing slowly became more regular. Scarlett's question had hit home. Why did he care? The life he led, the night he lived and thrived in, called for a certain selfishness, an acute sense of self-preservation. Graverobber couldn't afford to watch out for some innocent young blood.

But what else would the kid do? She'd been through more in a day's time then most people ever experienced. And her life- she was trapped and poisoned by her own fucking dad! God only knew what she'd been doing for the past two weeks.

When it came down to it, something about Shilo reminded Graverobber of himself at seventeen, and that was what really affected him.

"Shit." He was wasting precious darkness. There were bodies waiting, Zydrate to extract, money to make. Graverobber stood up. He'd probably get back before the kid would wake up, and if not, well, at least she was safe.

Not that it really mattered to him. No. Not really.


	3. Demetri

Demetri sat sullenly on the railroad tracks. He was swaying from hunger, eyes almost gummed together with sleep. The damn train wouldn't come. He was impatient, and smelled puke. It was probably his. That stupid, damn train was late. Demetri had come down hard from his last hit. He was low, and really need something to bring him back up so he could get to work,

And the damn train wouldn't come.

"D? Are you D?"

The voice sounded much farther away than it actually was. It registered in Demetri's head that someone was calling him. He looked up at the platform. There was a man standing there, in shadow. He was wrapped in a traveling coat and had a hat pulled low over his face.

"Who's asking?" Demetri tried to answer. His mouth was incredibly dry, and his voice cracked, slurred. He tried again.

"Whatdya want?"

"I have a job offer for you. I can pay well."

Demetri tried to focus his foggy thoughts. Some random guy in a trench coat had a job for him? Wouldn't be the first time. It was probably something to do with Zydrate. Not that it really mattered regardless, since money was involved.

The tracks started to rumble and vibrate.

"Hold on a sec, man," Demetri yelled to the stranger.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Just wait!"

Demetri's eyes were starting to water from the train's bright white headlights. It was coming closer, and it was coming fast. He leaned forward in anticipation, gripping the wooden boards. His whole body was beginning to tingle and pulse, like stirring after a long sleep. Everything was its own, in stark contrast to the rest of the world. By itself, like him. The spider crawling by his foot. The dark leather of his boot. The dust rising in the air, in the light. The train's horn was like a piercing yell in Demetri's ears, a siren call. It filled up his mind, his thoughts. Somewhere, far away, someone was yelling. He barely heard it.

"Yes…" he hissed to himself. The train was only a few feet away…closer…he could read the graffiti…closer…his heart pumped, hard and red and hot…

_Now!_

Demetri threw himself into the air, his legs an aching springboard. Flying through the wind of the passing train, that roaring steel monster. His fingers gripped the wooden the wooden platform, legs swinging through the empty air. Demetri's body pounded with adrenaline, a completely different high than Z. His head felt light.

"Whoa, man, whoa!" The stranger was screaming at him. Demetri sighed, and heaved himself onto the platform. The man had stopped yelling, and gripped Demetri's arm tightly.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? What are you thinking?"

Demetri shrugged his arm free, and brushed off the palms of his hands. The clapping sound was somewhat satisfying to his newly awakened brain.

"Chill man. It's all good. Calm down."

He patted down his pockets. Where was it?"

"Oh damn, if I dropped it…oh! Here it is."

Demetri ripped the paper off a candy bar and bit the end. He chewed slowly, savoring the chocolate. Demetri had a sweet tooth the size of GeneCo.

"Now…what did you need?"

The stranger stared at him blankly, an almost puzzled expression on his face. Demetri tried not to cough on his candy bar. The man was hideous. The skin on his face was terribly scarred, puckered from some long ago burn, maybe. One eye was milky blind, and his nose was long and hawkish. The left side of his lip was pulled down with scar tissue. Demetri had seen some pretty bad things on the job, worse than this. But he was caught off guard.

"I need you to find someone for me. I need to know where he stays, what he does, who he's with. At all time."

Demetri eyed the man suspiciously. He wasn't up for stalking some homosexual man's gay fantasy.

"Who?" He knew better than to ask why.

The man pointed behind him, at the wall. The only thing there was a wad of gum and a poster warning against graverobbers. Demetri assumed the freak was talking about the later.

"You want me to find you…_the _Graverobber?" he laughed.

The man stared at him seriously.

"Yes. We have unsettled business."

Demetri took another bite of candy and shook his head. "Not happening, man. No one's ever caught the Graverobber. You're crazy."

The man pulled a pouch from his pocket and opened it. It was filled with wads of cash.

"But, you know, that's totally cool with me," Demetri added. The guy might be off his rocker, but he was loaded.

"It shouldn't be that difficult to find a man of fellow trade. I don't want you to kill him. I want you to befriend him. Make him trust you. When I tell you, you bring him to me. I'll pay you half of this now, half when the job is done."

Trust him? Demetri had to bite back another retort. This job was virtually impossible. But there was a lot of money involved.

"Sure. Okay. I'll do your job, Mr.…."

His new employee nodded. "Call me Smith. You can reach me at this number," he handed over a small sheet of paper. "Here's your first payment."

Demetri quickly took the money. He shoved it in a pocket. Smith was already walking away.

"Befriend the Graverobber…" Demetri chuckled to himself. What the hell, he'd try. After all, a lot of money was involved. And he was a pretty cunning guy, when he needed to be. Quiet too, and stealthy. He was known, actually, in part, for being able to slip into places one normally couldn't slip into.

Demetri finished off his candy bar, then pulled a leather band from his pocket. He tied his dark, curly hair into a small knot at the back of his head, then stretched.

"Damn, I really need to stay off the Z. A professional never uses his own stuff…"

He laughed at the thought of himself as a professional, hiked the jeans up a little higher on his skinny frame, then left the train station, thinking about how he'd spend the money.


	4. Going Soft

"Hey there, beautiful. You come here often?"

Graverobber pulled the woman's body from the dirt, brushing at her hair a little with the back of his hand. She couldn't have been dead for more than a couple of days.

"Of course not. Once was enough, right?"

He chuckled and pressed the Zydrate gun into her nose.

"You got something I want, baby. Something I need…"

The little glass vial filled with the glowing Zydrate. Graverobber wished it had been a mass murder, maybe, so he could have gotten more Z this fresh. A small part of him felt bad about making light of death in the way he did, but when you were around something long enough, you couldn't help make jokes. You couldn't have morals.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you not to play with your food?"

Graverobber stiffened. He hadn't heard anyone behind him; not a footstep, not a breath. Obviously it wasn't a patrol officer there, or he'd already have a bullet in his skull. No one had ever snuck up on Graverobber before. He was never taken by surprise. He _hated_ surprises.

With a small intake of breath, Graverobber pocketed the Zydrate and pivoted on his heel. The moon was bright, and so was the Z, so he could easily make out who'd spoken. A skinny youth was leaning against a cracked mausoleum, arms and ankles crossed casually. He had curly black hair pulled into a knot at the back of his head, and green eyes that shone almost like a cat's. His features looked like a finely-made sculpture, not suited to the dirt there or the impertinent expression and cocky smile. He was obviously a street dweller- dark, dirty jeans, heavy boots, holey gloves, heavy jacket over a simple shirt, and a stuffed backpack. His whole life was probably in that pack. It would be spilled on the ground, though, if he decided to take this any further.

"What do you want?" Graverobber asked. He stood up, using his impressive size to deter this kid from doing anything violent.

The kid shrugged, that same grin on his lips. "Not much. It just warms my heart to see a master at work."

Graverobber narrowed his eyes. "Does your mom know where you're at, kid? Good boys don't play in graveyards."

"Well, you would know, wouldn't you Lestat? Did you suck her blood before taking the Z?"

What the hell was this kid playing at? Graverobber didn't know how to react, besides punching this brat in his neck. That wouldn't tell him what the boy wanted, though, so he made himself stay calm.

"Are you looking for a hit?"

"Just of wisdom," the kid responded, an innocent expression on his face that bordered on mocking. Graverobber knew better to think this kid was innocent. He was young, alone, and alive. That meant he had a motive.

"Look, I don't have time for this." Graverobber kicked the corpse back into its grave and turned to leave. If whatever was on his mind was important, the kid would catch him now.

_One…two…_

"Wait!"

Graverobber turned around. The kid swallowed nervously, raw emotion on his face.

"I know you're the best. I…I do what you do. Only nowhere near as good. I want to leave this city. If something doesn't change, I'll never make it. Please help me. Please."

Either this kid was very genuine, or a very good actor. Graverobber suspected the latter, but something he'd said struck a chord.

_I want to leave this city. _Many people had that same dream. Very few, though, actually found an escape. God, these stupid teenagers were appealing to a better nature he didn't know he had. Maybe he was going soft.

"Something tells me I'll regret this." Graverobber sighed. "Follow me."


	5. Bastard

Demetri trotted behind Graverobber, trying not to grin, or do a whooping victory dance. He was currently in a state of happy disbelief. This was the legendary night –crawler he'd heard so much about? The ambiguous figure who practically owned the underground, who evaded capture time and time again? It was like stealing candy from a baby. Demetri was actually a little disappointed. He'd expected much more of a challenge.

"So, um, where are we going?"

Graverobber stopped. "Here." He threw Demetri a small hand shovel.

"Start digging." He smiled and leaned against a tree.

Of course he'd be playing lackey. Not _everything _could be a piece of cake. Demetri squatted next to the grave and pushed in the shovel. This one wasn't newly dug, so the dirt was tightly packed and hard to dig through. Demetri labored in silence, feeling Graverobber's eyes on the back of his head. He was slowly getting frustrated. The old man could at least pretend to help. Demetri was trying to get through six feet with a hand shovel. This wasn't the night he'd been expecting.

After about an hour, Demetri was six feet into the ground, then seven. He looked up at Graverobber, brushing the dirt from his forehead.

"There's no body. Nothings in here."

Graverobber leaned forward, glanced into the hole.

"Shit. I must have cleaned out this area already. _Oops._"

He hit Demetri with a serious, piercing look.

"I must have forgotten all about it in my old age."

The Graverobber turned around and walked away. He called over his shoulder, "See you here tomorrow night, kid." And then like a plastic bag in a breeze, he was gone.

Demetri stared silently, his mouth open like a fish out of water.

"That bastard."

He climbed out of the grave, not bothering to refill it. That damn bastard. Obviously this whole trust thing wasn't going to happen, at least not easily. Some work would be required on Demetri's part. Mental _and _physical, obviously.

"You want to challenge me? Fine, I deserve it. But I'm also ready for it." Demetri dug through his backpack and pulled out a bag of M&M's. He shook it over his hand, and two candies dropped into his palm.

"Great. I'm out." Demetri kicked at the tree.

"This night sucks. I need some chocolate."

He pulled a couple of dollars from Smith's bundle.

"If the Walgreens isn't open, I think I might just stab someone…."

Demetri paused, chewed the remaining M&M's.

"Or myself."


	6. Baby Duck

Shilo was floating. Waves of images were pushing her under, up, back, forth. Rocking and shaking past faces. So many faces. The same faces, over and over again.

_I'm awake. _The knowledge burned inside Shilo's chest. She was conscious, aware. Was she still in the dumpster? On the ground? Shilo didn't know, couldn't think, couldn't feel. Her body felt like an empty husk.

Slowly things began to sink in, fall over Shilo. She couldn't smell any trash, couldn't smell much at all, actually. She was lying on something relatively soft and warm. A bed? Shilo wondered if she'd somehow made her way back home without knowing it. And then something cold shot into her stomach like a knife. Maybe someone had picked her up, someone with bad intentions. Maybe she was captive again.

The sound of a door opening. Footsteps. And a heavenly smell….something sent from the gods…

_Something that had to be food._

Shilo cracked open her eyes. She was in some kind of bedroom; but then again, it could have been a dank basement. A woman with bright blue dreadlocks was setting down a bowl on the table. Shilo was reminded of the junkies she'd seen on the streets. Or hookers. Whatever they had been.

She shifted her gaze around the room and saw, much to her surprise, a familiar face.

"You?" Shilo sat up quickly. The room spun, so she laid down again. She had never been so happy to see a mangy drug dealer before.

"Take it easy, kid. You've been out for a while." Graverobber stood up and walked to her bedside.

"Hungry?"

Shilo tried sitting up again, more slowly this time. She looked up at her apparent savior. He was so _big_. Almost larger than she'd remembered. Right now, though, he looked like a god.

"I…"

The hooker-woman was eyeing her with a strange expression. She pushed back a clump of hair and picked up the bowl of soup. Graverobber took it from her hands with a nod of thanks, or possibly dismissal, and placed it in Shilo's lap.

"Eat. You look like I could sneeze and blow you away."

Shilo picked up the tin spoon and took a sip of the red broth. Her stomach exploded with a cramping pain. She was even hungrier than she'd thought. The soup had vegetables, potatoes, and beef, but she barely tasted it. All she cared was that the meal was warm and filled her up. Shilo quickly finished the soup, not even regarding how messy she looked. When she'd finished there was a deep chuckle. Graverobber was standing over her, a crooked grin on his face.

"What?"

Graverobber leaned forward and wiped her mouth with his sleeve. Shilo froze unconsciously. The gesture was unexpected. A part of her heart stung painfully; she was reminded of her dad feeding her, and cleaning her up afterwards, as a child. But another part of her heart began to thump frantically. Her lips felt like they were burning where he'd touched her.

Any humor that had been in Graverobber's eyes were gone now. His expression was flat and reserved.

"Thank you," Shilo added. She knew he understood that she meant for saving her life.

He nodded shortly, than asked, "What are you going to do now?"

Shilo gripped her skirt tightly. What did he mean? What could she possibly do? And then it hit her painfully, like a ton of bricks. He didn't want her here. He was asking her to leave. She stood up, wobbling like a baby duck. Shilo's so obvious weakness, and him seeing it, filled her with a hot anger. He didn't want her here. And why would he? Shilo was next to nothing, and the knowledge hurt.

"Leave. I'll figure something out. I'm leaving now."

Her voice was shaking with the bitter tears she tried to hold in. Shilo threw her shoulders back in an effort to look stronger and tried to walk confidently from the room. She stumbled, and Graverobber caught her arm in a tight, almost painful grip. She looked up at his cold face and was frightened to see anger in his eyes. What had she done? Just tried to rid him of an unneeded burden.

"Sit down, kid." Despite the anger in his eyes and the roughness of his voice, he sounded weary. Shilo obeyed. She was scared and confused and trying desperately not to break down in front of him. Graverobber stared at her silently for a moment, then left the room.

Shilo gazed after the spot he'd vacated for a few minutes. She was so tired of feeling lost. Shilo put her face in her hands and cried, ashamed down to the core of her tears.


	7. Bloodbath

Graverobber strode angrily down the hallway, his hands clenched in tight fists. What the _fuck_ was wrong with him? How could he let such an insignificant child affect him? _He didn't care._ Survival was _key_, his survival. If something could get in the way that, well…he didn't fucking need it.

"What's eating you?"

Graverobber stopped abruptly and looked up. Scarlett was standing at the end of the hallway, blocking his escape like a boulder.

"Nothing." He tried to shove past, but only bounced back from the impressive wall of her chest. Scarlett eyed him in that way only she had, the way that made him feel like a ten year old with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I'm running a bath for the stray," Scarlett said.

Graverobber shrugged.

"You're going to make her leave." It wasn't a question. Graverobber nodded, but could feel something wriggling around in his chest. He ignored it.

"I don't have time to babysit. The kid will be fine." Even as the words left is mouth, Graverobber knew they weren't true. Shilo wouldn't be fine, and both Scarlett and he knew it.

"I know I said we didn't have room, but I could use someone to clean up around here. Blue's a lazy slob. If she wanted the job I could pay her with a room."

"I don't care," Graverobber said, losing his patience. He adverted his gaze from Scarlett's face. He knew what he'd seen in her eyes. Sometimes he resented how well she could read him. It made him angry, especially now. Graverobber pushed past again, and this time Scarlett let him.

"You can't always run. Some things, they're inevitable."

Graverobber ignored her calm voice and left the bordello. There were still a few hours of darkness left, and his customers were waiting.

* * *

_Fumbling fingers, humid air, barely touching skin; a bite to the neck, throaty groaning; pushing, moving hips, fast, slow, fast; quickly finished, and then she's on her knees, smearing lipstick and cum; release, coughing, licking, biting, gyrating, and then she gets the hit, and is gone, in so many ways._

Graverobber leaned against the wall and buckled his pants, watching her stumble down the alley, almost floating but close to falling. He wiped his mouth in disgust. Why he let them pay him like this sometimes, he didn't know. Graverobber's body sent the signals to his brain, he felt the pleasure and reacted. But he felt so detached. Like someone looking in on a scene that he wasn't part of and was slightly nauseated by.

Sex used to be appreciated, enjoyed. Graverobber loved it, thrived at it. Sometimes it still gave him some satisfaction; he was a man, after all. But Graverobber sometimes doubted this, wondering if he was more of a wolf, or even a monster. A part of him missed the sweet escape of a warm body, secret dark places and cries in the night. But now he preferred the coins.

"If I didn't give them the Z, they'd just find someone else. I need the money, I…"

Graverobber hit the wall with his fist. He was feeling angrier than he had in a while. At himself and at the world in equal doses.

Hardly without realizing it he was making his way back to the Glow. The first lights of morning crept over the horizon- a slightly brighter grey than night. Graverobber closed his eyes and tried to imagine a blue sky, a yellow sun. But the most his mind could conjure up was a blood-red morning, dripping onto the city and drowning everyone in it.

_Bloodbath._


	8. Memoria di Angelo

Pavi gasped with happiness.

"They're a-perfect!"

The tailor folded the purple pinstriped slacks over his arm, an obvious expression of relief on his face. Pavi Largo was far easier to please than his older brother.

"If you could just wait here, sir, I'll box them up for you. Lucky the train with the shipment came on time!" The tailor laughed shakily and gave a rapid succession of nervous, head-bobbing bows as he left the room. Pavi sat back in a comfortable, red velvet chair to wait. People like this man amused him- people that treated him like royalty. A shop girl climbed a ladder in the corner to stack a box, exaggerating her movements to show off muscled calves. Pavi rubbed his smooth chin and watched. Why shouldn't they treat him as a prince? He might as well be.

_Once Luigi's heart gives out from his-a temper, and Amber contracts something nasty, it'll all-a be mine._

Something the man had said was tugging at Pavi's mind like a fishhook. Trains. He had mentioned a train….

_The train roared into the station, steam ejecting with an evil scream- an oversized, malevolent tea pot. __Paviche__ stepped onto the crowded wooden platform, stumbling a little on his way down. He was nine years old, short and thin for his age, with dark hair and wide, unnervingly-green eyes. Paviche looked over at his mother. The tall, daunting wooman stood on the train with her arms crossed and eyes cold. She did not kiss her son goodbye, nor give him any words of comfort, but only nodded him away. Paviche took a deep breath and nervously began to walk, the suitcase in his hand trembling. He could barely speak English, and had never met this family of his before- a father! A big brother, and a sister too! A part of him was thrilled at the thought. But another part, the biggest part, fully understood the import of what was happening. Paviche wondered if he would miss his mother. True, she continually told him how beautiful he was, that he was her "__poco ragazzo di angelo"- little angel boy. But she was never warm or loving. Never truly close…._

_Three huge, burly men stood near the station's exit. Their arms were folded in much the same way as Paviche's mother's. A man shoved his way between two of the bodyguards. He was fat, wearing an expensive suit and a happy smile._

"_Little Paviche! My youngest boy!" The man leaned down and opened his arms. Paviche walked forward hesitantly and stood still as Rotti Largo wrapped him in a hug. After a moment, he returned the embrace. There was something about his father's smell that put Paviche at ease- mint and tobacco smoke. His hug was far warmer than any Paviche's mother had ever given._

_Rotti straightened back up and pulled two teenagers forward, one under each arm. _

"_Paviche, meet your brother and sister- Luigi and Amber!" _

_The boy nodded his head once and frowned derisively. He had an unpleasant look about him, this Luigi, from his polished shoes to his attempt at growing a scarce beard. The girl smiled, but it was mocking, and didn't make Paviche any more comfortable. Amber was dressed exactly like a fourteen year old trying to look far older than her years. Paviche thought she looked a little silly._

_He began to look around, taking in his surroundings and wondering when he'd see the rest of this city, so different than Italy, when two women walked forward. The first grasped Rotti's arm and smiled down at Paviche. She was pretty, though not miraculously so. Paviche turned his attention to the other woman, and felt his little heart stop._

"_Paviche, this is your soon to be stepmother, Marni. And this is her best friend, and, I might add, a wonderful asset to me as well- Blind Mag."_

_He stared up at this woman called Mag, this beautiful, divine angel. Something stirred in Paviche, something he'd never felt before. Mag's shapely figure under the slinky black dress she wore…her wild and curly mane…full, red lips, widened in a smile…and those eyes! Wide and wise and piercing him to the soul. Paviche was all at once awed and jealous of this woman's beauty._

"_Ciao, signora," he uttered breathlessly. Rotti, Marni, and Mag laughed good-naturedly. The adults led the children away, into a stretch limo and down the city road. Paviche did not take in the sights until much later. For now, he could only see Mag._

"Mr. Largo? Mr. Largo?" Pavi blinked once and looked up into the shop-girl's face.

"Your pants are ready," she said slyly, holding the box in her hands. Pavi eyed her smooth, pale face, and the full breasts practically spilling out of her shirt.

"Sì signora, they-a are!" Pavi said, stroking one finger down the woman's neck. She practically purred, setting the box aside and climbing onto his lap.

What was the point of thinking about the past, when the present was so delicious?


	9. Claustrophobia

Demetri gratefully bit into the hamburger. He nodded toward Roger and said, through a full mouth of beef, "Thanks for dinner."

The old man grunted. "Shut up, ya little nat. I don't do it for free. D'you have the stuff?"

Demetri swallowed and grinned. "If you have any more of that syrup."

Roger grumbled to himself and passed over a brown bottle of chocolate sauce. Demetri flipped the bun from his burger and squeezed a layer onto the patty. He dipped his finger in the chocolate for a taste.

"Delicious, Roger. Utterly delicious."

The old man sighed and held out his hand. Demetri took the vial of Z from his pocket and tossed it into Roger's waiting palm. They were both sitting in a derelict kitchen; Demetri on the counter, Roger in a bent plastic chair. The old man had been paying for Z with food for a couple of months now. Demetri couldn't complain, especially since Roger shared his sweet tooth.

"Where's Lily?" Demetri asked innocently. Roger's daughter was a cheap whore, who had a fancy for Demetri that made her even cheaper.

"Why?" the old man asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow at his attempt at an angelic expression. Roger had no idea what Lily did after dark, and this worked out just fine for Demetri.

"Last time I was here she asked me to sing her a song. I learned one for her." This wasn't entirely untrue. Demetri wasn't ashamed to say he had an awesome voice, and usually sang to Lily while they fucked.

Roger shrugged. "Ah…I think she went out with some friends. You can check at the diner down the street."

Demetri nodded, said his goodbyes, and left. Whenever Lily was "at the diner", it usually meant she was with another customer. He sighed to himself, making his way down the mostly abandoned street. Demetri had really been looking forward to fucking Lily. He'd even brought her some malted milk-balls and a bag of gummy worms as a suprise.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in."

_Shit._ Just what he needed. Lidia. She was sitting on a garbage can, smoking a cigarette. Demetri noticed with a small grain of amusement that she was looking worse than usual.

"We're not inside, dip-shit. What do you want?"

Lidia hopped down and walked towards him, that expression on her face that said, _I hate you, but I'm horny._

"Your little girlfriend isn't around tonight, D? I hear she's getting a job at that whore house a few blocks over."

Lidia put her arms around Demetri's neck and pressed herself close. He moved his face back from hers. She smelled like stale tobacco and piss.

"Lily isn't my girlfriend."

"Oh, that's right…" Lidia began, shoving her hand into Demetri's pants and grabbing him. "You don't have girlfriends, do you? You have fuck-buddies and hookers."

"I wonder why," Demetri spat, pushing her away. Lidia stumbled once, then caught herself on a broken newspaper dispenser. They glared at each other. Demetri felt sickened, just by the sight of her. She was so thin; wasted looking like a corpse. A really slutty, annoying corpse. Demetri was getting to the point where he preferred the company of silent dead, and himself.

"Go suck something," he told Lidia, striding away.

"I hope you die, D!" she called after him. "I hope you fucking die! I hope you die alone!"

He ignored her, ignored the unreasonable fact that his hands were shaking. When Lidia's angry yells had faded away Demetri leaned against a wall, panting for breath. He was suddenly feeling claustrophobic, reminding him strongly of a recurring dream he had of being buried alive.

Demetri dug through his pockets for a vial of Z and the gun. He pushed his sleeve up and poised the needle over his arm, over the old purple bumps. But as his breathing began to slow, the glowing blue vial started to look less appealing and more like an omen.

"Screw it…" he mumbled, and unwrapped a Hershey's bar instead. The chocolate melted in his mouth, sweet as an old friend. Which reminded him of Lily.

"I promised her a song…" he murmured, beginning to hum as he walked down the street towards the Glow.


	10. Soap

Shilo stood in the bathroom, feeling completely shocked at how fancy it was. Lush and tacky, it looked like someone had tried to combine the Victorian age with a Greek bathhouse. The Madame ran water from a golden tap into an antique tub on fancy legs. She poured in some purple liquid that splashed and bubbled.

"Lavender," she said with a wink. "Now take off those dirty rags so I can wash them for you."

"Take off…." Shilo eyed the three girls in various areas of the large bathroom.

"Strip, child!" Scarlett snapped.

Shilo quickly complied, completely aware that this woman could easily overpower her if it came to that. She stood in her underwear, feeling like an awkward and embarrassed child.

"Those too. We're all ladies here."

Someone chuckled in the background. Face flushed, Shilo stepped out of her undergarments. But as she climbed into the tub of water, her shame was quickly forgotten. The bath was heavenly. It was hot, filled with think suds, and smelled wonderful. Shilo sand into the water down to her chin, feeling the best she'd had in a long time.

"Thank you," she sighed, genuinely pleased.

"Well, we can't have you covered in filth. Not in _my _house. There's soap and a washcloth at the foot of the tub." The Madam patted Shilo's head good-naturedly, then left the room.

Shilo closed her eyes, trying to pretend she was completely alone, in her own little world. She pushed away the murmurs of the other girls and focused on her beating heart.

_Thump. Thump…_

It wouldn't work- there was just too much to think about. Shilo couldn't make her mind an empty box. She had gone from a bad situation to a purely odd one.

_A whore house! I'm taking a bath surrounded by hookers!_

Shilo was bemused. But, at least Scarlett was kind. She'd offered Shilo room and board in exchange for a job cleaning up around the place. As silly as it was, a part of her was excited- her very first job. It was in strange circumstances, yes, but what part of her life had been normal so far?

Another abnormality- Graverobber. He'd saved her life, for completely unknown reasons, yet he was slowly shifting from a crooked smiled knight in shining armor to a fierce, cold mystery. Shilo was afraid of her savior. And, she had to admit to herself, completely and utterly attracted to him, in so many ways. He was sexy and intense, but also foreign and strange to her. And dangerous, so dangerous. Shilo wasn't sure what to think, and all this uncertainty was starting to make her feel sick.

"You're that girl."

Shilo opened her eyes in surprise, trying to refrain from jumping out of the bath in shock. "Um?"

It was the same girl who'd brought her the soup, the one with blue dreadlocks and caramel skin.

"The one who was all over the papers and the news. That Repo Man's kid. You're her."

"Oh. Yeah. My name's Shilo."

The girl grinned broadly and extended her hand. "You can call me Blue."

Shilo shook Blue's hand, who obviously didn't care that she was sopping wet and covered in suds.

"How old are you?" Blue asked, squinting.

"Seventeen."

Blue grinned. "Ha! I'm twenty one. So is it true? You never left your house before now, or anything?"

"Yeah. It's true." Shilo could have easily lied. But what was the point?

"Wow." Blue's expression was awed. "So…you've never been to the movie theatre, or gone to school, or anything?"

Shilo shook her head, trying to swallow the lump forming in her throat. She knew all of these things, obviously, but hearing another person talk of them, be so shocked by them, made everything so real. Shilo was a freak. She'd never went bowling, or had a pizza, or bought her own clothes….or even had company other than her dad.

"Hmm. We'll have to fix that."

Shilo smiled hesitantly. "Okay?"

Blue laughed. "Don't be such a little kitten! I'm not going to take you anywhere crazy at first. But you need to _live, _chick. You know? God, at seventeen I was…well, pretty much the same as I am now."

Shilo grinned. "Living sounds pretty good."

Blue smacked the side of the tub. "Damn right, it does! Now, finish up in here and I can show you around the place."

Shilo stared after Blue as she walked away, a warm feeling in her chest. She was pretty sure she'd just made her first friend. Shilo wasn't entirely sure how these things worked, of course, but she felt comfortable around Blue. She was nice, energetic, and didn't have any malicious plans to kill her. Shilo was reminded of TV shows she'd watched when the new girl at school got quickly befriended and shown around by someone friendly. This sure wasn't high-school, and Shilo was nowhere near being a normal teenager, but things were starting to feel a little less repulsive. At least she had a plan. At least she wasn't stumbling around in garbage.

Shilo grabbed the bar of soap and started scrubbing her hair.

_Her hair._ She hadn't had hair for as long as she could remember. The curly locks were thick and soft in her fingers. There wasn't much there, but as Shilo lathered soap into her hair for the first time, she was completely grateful for what was.


	11. Giggles

Graverobber stalked inside, leaving the first light of morning trailing behind him. He was pissed off and hungry, but mainly just wanted to sleep for a very, very long time. It seemed a lot of the girls shared his sentiment as well, because not many were around. Graverobber thanked every god he could think of for this as he walked down the stairs toward his room. All he wanted was some well earned rest. _Quiet._

A chorus of giggles exploded from behind his door. Graverobber froze for a moment, mostly in surprise, then shook himself and walked inside.

Shilo and Blue were sitting on his bed, falling all over each other from laughter. Graverobber barely recognized the kid. Her appearance hadn't changed, besides the fact that she was in a new, clean set of clothes. What was different? And then, as the laughter died down and the two girls looked up at him like guilty children, he realized what it was. The kid's face wasn't etched with fear, exhaustion, and sadness. Her eyes were bright and vibrant, and her cheeks were pink from laughing. It was the first time Graverobber had ever seen her look remotely happy.

Shilo stared down at her twined fingers. Blue, on the other hand, jumped off the bed and approached Graverobber with her usual bravado.

"I need to talk to you."

Graverobber eyed Shilo once, then nodded, and followed her outside the door.

"Look, there aren't any available rooms around. So, either she stays with you, or…well, I guess she could sleep with me, but that would probably interfere with my customers."

Graverobber sighed and rubbed his temples. "Fine. Fine."

He looked up, hoping to see Blue's retreating back, but she was still there, biting her lip.

"Yes?" he asked, through gritted teeth.

"Look, um. So…I'm pregnant. Abortion pills are expensive. There's a guy who'll trade me some for Zydrate. Thing is, I don't got any…"

"If you're looking for charity, I'm the wrong guy."

"We could make a deal…"

Blue walked a little closer, hooking her thumbs through Graverobber's belt loops. She looked up at him, a smile full of implication on her lips.

He'd had sex with Blue a couple of times prior. She was one of the few women he could stomach. He liked her no-nonsense approach to life, and curves that hadn't been sucked away by constant Zydrate use. But after seeing her laughing like that with Shilo, she looked so much younger to him. He almost didn't want to touch her.

Blue pressed her groin to his, no longer seeming young.

"Fine," he murmured into her hair.

Blue pulled away and looked up at his face. "Thank you, by the way. For this, and…for Shilo. There's something about her I like. Something comforting." She laughed. "It's probably cause she's the only one in this joint who's never had a dick in her mouth. Hold on a sec."

Blue removed her fingers from Graverobber's pants and walked back into the room. He leaned against the doorframe. Shilo was staring intently at the opposite wall. He wondered if she'd been listening, then inwardly shrugged. It didn't really matter. She might as well learn quick how things were done in the real world. What really happened.

"You'll have the room to yourself tonight," Blue said, wrapping an arm around Shilo's shoulders.

"Where will you sleep?" Shilo asked, looking intently at Graverobber's face.

He snorted. "Where are we kid?"

"Right." Shilo looked down at her hands again.

"Hey…" Blue said, tilting up her chin. "Relax, chick. You got a big day tomorrow, right? Or…I guess I should say today. It's what, six?"

She looked at Graverobber for conformation.

"Five," he sighed. _In the fucking morning. _He just wanted to get the sex over with so he could finally sleep. "Come on, Blue."

She grinned at him, then kissed Shilo on the cheek. "Sleep good."

Graverobber stared at Shilo, who looked, once again, near tears. How could he say goodnight to her? Something that casual just didn't seem fitting for some reason. He couldn't even imagine the words coming out of his mouth. Graverobber settled on an abrupt nod, then steered Blue out of the room and closed the door. She leered at him and grabbed his belt, dragging him down the hallway. Graverobber pretended he didn't hear the muffled sob from his bedroom, and followed.


	12. Memoria di Rosa

Pavi walked through the garden, gingerly touching the petals of genetically engineered roses and rubbing smooth leaves between his fingers. It was all a façade, of course, but one thing he loved was beauty. Even an expensive simulation of what Pavi had known in Italy as a boy, so many years ago. Birds twittered in trees above, the sound only vaguely different from the scantily clad female aids following a few behind, chatting amongst themselves.

He pressed his face to a bush of blood-red flowers and inhaled deeply, its smell associated with something far away.

_Paviche angrily wiped his face, stomping up stairs and down hallways with no intention or direction. It was his eleventh birthday, and he'd received nothing but corn and ridicule from his siblings. His father had ignored him, as usual, still withdrawn and cold as he'd been since Marni's abandonment. Rotti's secretary had delivered to him that morning a generic card with five folded hundred dollar bills inside. The only other present he'd received was asset of small porcelain dolls from Amber._

_"You're such a girl- I thought you'd like them!" She'd laugh shrilly and walked away. Paviche wiped his face again at the memory. He did like the dolls, which only made him even angrier. _

_Paviche entered a corridor that was empty, and more ornately decorated than any other he'd seen so far. Creamy white walls, gold and purple everywhere. He took a calming breath and smiled, instantly reminded of his old home._

_Somewhere close a record played; and old Italian opera. Paviche walked down the carpeted hallway, following the sound. A woman began to sing along, oh so sweetly, and his heart began to thump painfully. He had an idea who's quarters these were._

_Paviche stopped in front of a pair of double doors, partially cracked, and looked in. Mag, the beautiful angel, was lounging in a chaise, eyes closed as she sang with the record. A robe was all she wore, barely closed, and Paviche could easily see the milky white of her legs, peeking crescent moons of her breasts. After another moment of inspection, Paviche saw long black trails staining her cheeks- Mag was crying. _

_The record ended, and his angel opened her eyes. He froze, terrified that she would be angry. Paviche had never been alone with Mag before. But she only smiled, a surprised expression on her face._

_"Little Pavi. What brings you here?" She stood up, gesturing him inside. Paviche walked in, his legs trembling like jellied eel. _

_"I…was just-a walking, signora." _

_Mag drew her robe closer around her body and sat down at a stool before her polished vanity. Paviche summoned up every fiber of bravery and walked closer to Mag, feeling more comfortable by inches as he did so. He touched a finger to the mascara on her cheek._

_"Why do you-a cry, __quello bella__?"_

_Mag smiled down at Paviche, catching his little hand in hers and squeezing it._

_"I've lost someone very dear to me, Pavi. Do you know how that feels?" she asked, solemnly. Paviche thought about his mother, but couldn't muster up much sadness, not like remembering his actual homeland. He shook his head._

_Mag touched a hand to Paviche's dark hair and smiled faintly. "Lucky boy."_

_"You can-a call me Paviche, signora. No one does."_

_Much to his pleasure Mag laughed, and began clearing her face of the stained makeup. _

_"And you can call me Magdalene, my new little friend. Isn't today your birthday?" she asked, almost as a second thought._

_Paviche nodded. He had forgotten that fact for a moment. Mag plucked a red rose from the vase on her vanity counter, blood red against her long, pale fingers. She tucked the flower into his lapel, then kissed his forehead._

_"Happy birthday, Paviche." _

Pavi's hand dropped from the flower petals. He was quite suddenly ready to leave the green-house garden.


	13. Outright Terror

Demetri sat down on the bed, simultaneously pulling Lily onto his lap. There was a muffled crunch.

"Aw, shit," he muttered, reaching for his back pocket. Lily pulled her full, red lips away from his neck, a look of worry on her pixie-like features.

"What is it?"

He handed her the bag of crushed malted milk balls. "I sat on your surprise."

Lily gasped and smiled happily, blue eyes glowing. "You brought me a present? Oh, D!" She threw the bag aside and wrapped her arms around Demetri, pushing him onto the bed, taking him off guard with a barrage of grateful kisses. She pulled away long enough to excitedly say, "Tonight's free!"

That was enough for Demetri. He responded to Lily's exuberance just as enthusiastically. If there was a devil on his shoulder, it would have strutted with pride and patted his back. Demetri's little present for Lily hadn't had any ulterior motive at the time, but it was sure working to his advantage nonetheless.

* * *

Demetri slowly chewed a peanut butter cup, his arms folded behind his head on the pillow. Lily's bare back was to him as she tied her curly blonde hair into a bun. He stared at her tiny figure and sighed with satisfaction. Woman sure did respond to free gifts of chocolate. Demetri scratched his chest and stretched.

"Well…I guess I should be going."

Lily turned around and grinned. "You don't have to. We could, I don't know, talk." She laid back down on the bed and propped her chin up on her folded hands.

Demetri hid his frown with difficulty.

"Talk? Um. What do you want to talk about?"

Lily shrugged, still grinning. "I don't know…the future, maybe? I don't want to be a whore forever, you know."

Demetri laughed nervously. "But, ah…you're so good at it. And you know what they say…stick with what you do best…"

Lily scooted a little closer, laughing good naturedly. "Aw, D…you think I'm a good whore?"

"Of course! The very best. How about..ah…you show me those skills again?" He winked, hoping to deter her from this "talking" business. But Lily wouldn't relent. She wriggled up to his side, breasts pressed to his arm. Any other time he'd be stiff as board, but the muscles in his stomach where clenched too hard with outright terror. Lily playfully dragged her finger up Demetri's chest.

"Sure thing- later. But first…well…there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

Demetri gulped. "You…like cake?" He tried to slide away.

Lily laughed again. "No silly." She tapped his nose playfully with the tip of her finger. "I'm in love with you."

Demetri fell off the bed. Lily peeked over the edge, still giggling, and he yelped once, then stood up like a fire had been lit under him.

"Oh, damn. Look at the ti…I think I…whoo…I gotta go, Lily."

He began to hurriedly pull on his boxers and jeans.

"But why?" she asked, pouting. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh! Wrong? No, no! Of course not! I just…I left… I left my stove on! And, you know how that is, I…" Demetri gathered up the rest of his things, not bothering to button his pants. Losing his cool was not something he was proud of, but drastic times called for drastic measures. Demetri had escaped death at both knife and gun point without breaking a sweat, but _this?_ He was fucking terrified.

"D! Wait a second! I have to ask you something first!"

His pants began to fall down his hips as he bolted out the door, slipping a little on the smooth floor. Demetri ran down the hallway, eyes closed in terror.

_Abort mission escape escape run run run run…_

He stumbled in his quickly falling jeans, lost his footing, and collided with something both solid and hairy. Demetri hit the floor with a grunt and a painful thud. He hesitantly opened his eyes, and looked up into the furious face of Graverobber.


	14. Newspaper

_Oh shit. _Demetri sized up the angry grizzly bear standing over him, struck by the sudden, sinking suspicious he was about to be killed.

* * *

_Oh shit. _Graverobber stared at the stupid kid, wondering if he should just kill him now. Demetri was even scrawnier with without his bulky clothes- no bigger than Shilo, though more muscled. He was staring at Graverobber like a deer in headlights, looking so ridiculous with his pants around his knees, surrounded by the scattered pieces of clothes, that Graverobber was able to avoid murder by laughing. It wasn't happy by any length, but darkly amused, almost maniacal, and sleep deprived. He had been woken by Blue's snuggling- Graverobber hated any physical contact whatsoever while he slept, his only vulnerable time.

"Took the girl's shirt off and decided to run? Here's a tip, kid- they're supposed to look like that."

Demetri's expression changed from fear to annoyance. He stood up and yanked his pants back on with an obvious attempt at dignity.

"Really?" he replied sarcastically, slipping on his shirt and picking his jacket up off the floor. He started to walk back down the hallway.

Although it really wasn't his problem, Graverobber decided to state the obvious. "It's broad daylight. Sure you just want to walk outside? It could be dangerous, for our kind."

"I know!" Demetri replied in frustration. "I didn't expect to be leaving so soon."

"Don't feel bad, kid. At your age it's normal not being able to get it up."

Demetri gave one long, withering look. "Yeah. I'll keep that close to my heart." He turned around a second time. Graverobber grabbed the back of his jacket.

"You're not going to do something stupid and draw attention to this place. I'll show you the back way."

"Oh. Cool." Demetri cleared his throat as he and Graverobber walked down the hallway, once again swaggering with self possession.

"So," he smirked. "This is how you spend your well-earned dough?"

"Hardly." Graverobber'd be damned if he told Demetri where he lived. He still believed the kid had some kind of ulterior motive.

"Why _were _you running?"

"Oh. Some…uh…" Demetri glanced quickly up at Graverobber, and the rest of the sentence came out slightly deeper than the first, "some bitch-ass hoe crossed the line."

Graverobber snorted. "If I were her, I would have been the one running."

"If you were her, you wouldn't be making any dough to spend."

Graverobber raised his eyebrow in mild surprise and inclined his head in acknowledgment, a silent "touché". The kid might yet have some potential. And Graverobber never missed an opportunity when it literally ran into him.

"Have you seen the news?"

A paper was thrust at his chest. Scarlett crossed her arms and continued. "The girls are beginning to talk."

"God forbid…" Graverobber mumbled sarcastically, flipping open the newspaper. Demetri stood on his toes to glance over his shoulder. Graverobber glared.

"Go and stand in the corner."

Demetri stared at him in disbelief for a second. Graverobber wasn't blinking.

"Right." Demetri grimaced and complied, standing a few feet away with his face against the wall. Graverobber chuckled and scanned the paper. His smile quickly died away as he began to read.

"Have you seen this girl?" The headline loomed over a sheepish looking picture of Shilo.

_Shilo Wallace, 17, has been missing for two weeks. The young girl is a key eyewitness in the events at the most recent Genetic Opera. Amber Sweet, CEO and newly appointed head of GeneCo says, "We intend Shilo no harm. We're simply trying to gather up witnesses to increase our understanding of the situation. To Miss Wallace especially, we owe much recompense." If anyone has seen Shilo Wallace, please contact GeneCo officials. A reward will be given. _

"Shit." Graverobber closed the newspaper and crumbled it in his hand. Scarlett raised an eyebrow.

"Figure something out, or make her leave. After all…didn't you say it wasn't your problem?"

Graverobber watched her retreating back with a look of consternation on his face. The old hag, trying to make him feel guilty. Though it was slightly childlike, Graverobber couldn't help thinking bitterly, _How did she ever have a career as a prostitute? Even her brother has a prettier face…_

Graverobber blinked slowly, then grinned. He threw the balled up newspaper over his shoulder, ignoring the annoyed "ouch" that came from the corner. Without turning around he called to Demetri. "Alright. Let's go. I have a job for you."

Demetri trotted toward Graverobber and frowned. "Let me guess- something unpleasant and embarrassing that you'd rather not to yourself?"

Graverobber just smiled.


	15. Shapely Calves

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Blue looked up at Demetri with an unconcealed snort. Graverobber, his face completely composed, said "I think it brings out your eyes."

Demetri was wearing Shilo's old clothes, plus a green jacket to cover his bare and muscled arms. His hair was pulled from its pony tail and hung almost to his shoulders.

"This is a really good disguise, actually," Blue said. "The makeup isn't even necessary."

"Oh no," Graverobber shook his head. "The makeup is completely necessary."

Demetri bit back a retort, thinking about Mr. Smith. There were worst things someone could do for money.

Blue sighed."It's a shame he doesn't have her figure.

Demetri frowned. "What's wrong with my figure?"

"You don't have tits or hips, dumbass," Graverobber said.

"Or shapely calves," Blue added.

"There is nothing wrong with my calves."

Blue snorted again. "I'll go get the paint."

She left, making Demetri feel very uncomfortable. Graverobber smiled at him wolfishly.

"I forgot something."

"What?"

"We have to stuff your shirt."

Demetri grimaced. "And how exactly is me dressing as a girl going to help you?"

"Besides the endless entertainment? I'm going to cover you in blood so everyone thinks you're a dead Shilo Wallace."

"What about the real one?"

Graverobber yawned. "Dress her up as a dude. Pretend she's my new assistant. Never speak of this again. Except maybe to taunt you."

Demetri almost lost his breath as he was struck by a thought.

"Wait a second…why does it matter what these hookers think about you and a little pet? Unless, of course, you're here on a regular basis. Maybe even on a permanent one?"

Graverobber froze. He opened his mouth to retort angrily when Blue walked back in, a can of paint in her arms.

"Talk about this to anyone, and I'll personally rip off your dick and choke you with it."

Demetri almost grinned at the cliché threat. Like he hadn't heard that one before. Blue laughed.

"Ha! I remember when you did that to Edgar Davies- that creepy guy who tried to kidnap Shelly's baby. The look on his face…funny shit."

Graverobber grinned at Demetri, who blanched and shirted uncomfortably.

"Okay. Can we get this thing over with?"

"Of course. Blue," Graverobber winked, "make it as realistic as possible."


	16. Memoria di Bacche

Pavi grasped the gentern's ass firmly as she straddled him. They kissed roughly, hands eagerly roaming. She moved her mouth to his neck, and Pavi caught a glimpse of himself in the polished metal wall. His stolen mouth was smeared with red lipstick, much like a small child who'd messily eaten a handful of berries. The gentern laughed as Pavi's fingers moved against her. The sound was off, somehow, and unconsciously his mind began to wander.

_The room exploded with laughter. Paviche sat on the counter, Magdalene on her stool. _

_"Paviche, you are lovely," she said, holding the lipstick in her hand. He picked up the mirror by his side and examined his face._

_"__Trinità santa! What have you done to me?" Paviche asked with a giggle. Magdalene joined in, the sounds blending together with an effortless familiarity. _

_"I told you we'd just see how it looks! And I must say, you are far more beautiful than I."_

_Paviche eyed the makeup Magdalene had applied to his face. True, he was beautiful. Far more so than other seventeen year old boys. Even more than his sister, Paviche thought. But Blind Mag?_

_"Never, Bella. Never."_

_Magdalene's smile faded to something softer. She rested her hand on Paviche's knee. Just as anytime she touched him, the spot seemed to burn. _

_"My little Paviche. You are too kind."_

_He stared into her eyes. So wide, so consistently sad. Trapped, yet seeming to him a freedom, a release. _

_"Bella, I am not-a little anymore."_

_Paviche slipped down from the table and kneeled before Magdalene. She was a goddess he could easily devote himself to worshiping. He grabbed her hand and kissed its palm. She lightly touched her fingers to his cheek and made a little sound that was not quite a sigh, not quite a gasp. It set Paviche on fire. He took a shuddering breathe; slow. This was a waking dream, one he would not waste. Slow. Gently removing the hand from his face, Paviche turned instead to the hem of Magdalene's silk robe. He pushed the soft material just a little higher up, exposing a peeping thigh. Paviche kiss the creamy skin of her knee, and just as lightly grazed his lips further, trailing them up her leg, moving the robe away with his fingers, inch by inch. _

_Fingers curled into his hair, and Paviche heard a soft moan. His mouth trembled. Self control was harder, so much harder then he'd expected. With a small swallow he reached up and untied Magdalene's robe, letting his fingers graze the secret places he had to pass along the way. She shrugged her shoulders once and the silk material fell to the floor. Paviche gazed up at Magdalene's full and perfectly shaped breasts, the skin that he could finally see uninterrupted by clothing, not bothering to hide the awe on his face. _

_Paviche stood up and leaned close to Magdalene, one knee pressed to her side, one hand holding himself up on the chair. The other moved to cup her chin. Slowly, but effortlessly, like two magnets, their mouths met. Magdalene's lips, at first, did not move. But then her fingers twined in Paviche's hair even tighter, and she was kissing him back. _

_Paviche lowered Magdalene to the floor, their bodies pressed together, hands hungrily searching. He was scared to close his eyes, terrified this beautiful angel would disappear like smoke. With deft fingers she slipped off his vest and pulled away his shirt, all the while pressing herself against his hardness. He tugged on her ear lobe with his teeth, then moved them to her neck. She unbuckled his pants, and he was free of them and his underwear quickly, like they were an unwanted second skin. _

_Something was singing- not a voice, but an event; a change, a passion, an idea. It rang in Paviche's ears like a victory bell or explosion of glass, like Magdalene's soft moans. He slowly touched himself to Magdalene's warmth, as teasingly as he could, not wanting to rush, still fearful of this angel drifting out of existence. But she pressed her knees tightly around his hips and thrusted, forcing him inside her. _

_A sound of ecstasy exploded from Paviche's throat, raw and electric. He moved against her, guided by her steady rhythm and steady hands. His mouth was on her cheek, then on her neck, wanting to completely consume her if he could. Magdalene's nails dug into Paviche's back. She bit him hard on neck before throwing her own backwards, wet lips parted. The smeared lipstick on her face could have easily been the residue of her scream, as tangible as the sweat on her breasts. _

Pavi suddenly felt disgusted, no longer aroused. Discarding his usual charm and gentility, he pushed the nameless woman off his lap and stalked from the examining room, knocking down a tray of scalpels as he left.


	17. Acting

**Author's Note: Howdy! Sorry you guys, it's been a couple of months since I've updated. I've been busy writing some original stories! But now I'm in the mood to continue, mostly thanks to my wanting to write about Pavi again. :3 Yes, this is quite short, but more to come extremely soon. Chao! 3**

Graverobber walked down the stairs, a somber expression on his face. Shilo was in his arms, covered in blood and ghastly facial injuries. The girls began to appear at the slow sound of his heavy footfalls.

"Out of the way. I have to get rid of the body."

A couple of girls back away, hands covering their mouths.

"…what happened?" one asked in shock.

"Shilo was attacked. She went out for some air…I found her like this. Jack said he got there just a second too late- he could still hear the murderer's footsteps."

"Jack?"

"Someone I've hired recently." Graverobber didn't expand. "Get the door," he commanded. The girl hurriedly complied, and he walked outside, heading around the back.

Graverobber dropped Demetri with a look of disgust on his face.

"Ow! Shit!"

Demetri stood up, now covered in dirt as well as red paint and makeup. "What was that for?"

"Do you want a hug?" Graverobber mocked. "Go inside before I kick you."

Demetri grimaced at the blunt threat and headed toward a side door, hidden behind a pile of crates, and a dumpster. Graverobber followed, resisting the urge to kick him anyway.

"Not a hug," Demetri finally said. "But how about a thank you? I mean, I just saved your pet's life."

"She's not my pet," Graverobber said with derision. "And actually kid, you just saved your own."

"How?"

"The only reason you're alive right now is because of my good graces and merciful, amiable demeanor."

Demetri snorted. "I'd hate to see you grumpy."

Graverobber just smiled.


	18. Sewer Rats

Shilo stood uncomfortably in the new clothes. Scarlett had tailored them to fit, while still covering up her woman's figure; slacks tucked into boots, a button up shirt, two scarves, and a heavy jacket. Her hair was pulled into a small bun at the back of her head.

"Perfect!" the Madame said. "I think the scarves are a nice touch." She handed Shilo a pair of knit gloves. "These too."

Shilo slipped them on and sighed. Graverobber's plan was a good one. A part of her hoped that he hadn't completely made up the assistant part. She wanted to work outside…beside him.

She cleared her throat. "You're in a good mood."

The usually no-nonsense Madame had been humming happily to herself for the past hour.

"Oh, I am! My brother Valentine is finally coming home. He was in China, you know," Scarlett added proudly.

"For what?"

The Madame looked at the ceiling and waved her hand airily. "Oh, you know…business," she said vaguely.

There was a quick rap at the door and Blue hopped in.

"Everything went over without a stitch! Obviously," she added, beaming up at Graverobber, who was close behind. Shilo unconsciously stood a little straighter.

"Oh, mom- there's a call for you in the office." Blue winked.

Scarlett simpered most uncharacteristically. "Oh, excuse me dears- it'll just be a moment."

She exited quickly, floor shaking. Shilo smiled shyly at Graverobber.

"Thank you."

He grunted noncommittally. "I couldn't have the fucking authorities come down on this place. For a little girl, you sure draw some big attention."

Shilo narrowed her eyes. "I'm not little."

Graverobber snorted as a boy she didn't recognize ran breathless into the room. He was disheveled and carrying a plastic bag. Shilo couldn't help but wrinkle her nose a little at his smell. Though Graverobber looked just as dirty, at least he didn't reek like garbage, and dead things.

"Here're the clothes." He glanced at Shilo. "So this is the little girl?"

Graverobber chuckled, and the boy smirked. Shilo crossed her arms.

"And who are you? Prince of the Sewer Rats?"

"That," Graverobber began, slapping the boy on the back and almost knocking him down, "is a great title, kid. This is Demetri. I can't really give you a solid job description, except for maybe 'idiot'."

Demetri brushed a lock of hair from his face with an angry flick of his hand. Ignoring Graverobber, he assumed the same cross-armed position as Shilo.

"You could show some gratitude, little girl. I just helped save your skin."

Shilo felt her cheeks flair with heat. Little girl? Demetri couldn't have been any older than her, yet he had an expression on his face that was disgustingly haughty. The way he was smirking at her…Shilo clenched her fists. She could have easily, easily hit him in the face. Instead, she drew a deep breath and smiled back.

"Dressing in drag and playing a role I could have easily done myself?" She bowed. "My deepest thanks, Your Highness. Give my regards to the rats."

Without a second glance at the furious expression on Demetri's face or the laughter on Graverobber's, Shilo swept out of the room. Halfway down the hall Blue caught up with her.

"That was amazing!" she laughed. "I loved the look on the stupid runt's face."

"Where does he get off trying to call me little? And what's with that self-satisfied way he has? I mean, who is he anyway? Why does Graverobber even have him around?"

Blue shrugged. "As kind of a helper, I think. Demetri does Graverobber's dirty work now, apparently. I'm not sure where he came from."

Shilo felt another wave of angry. Helper! That scrawny jerk was Graverobber's _assistant_?

"Although you have to admit," Blue added, "he's kind of pretty."

"Who?" Shilo asked derisively. Blue nudged her hard in the arm.

"Demetri!"

Shilo sniffed. "I hadn't noticed."

She _had_ noticed, unfortunately. Demetri had one of those beautiful faces that she'd only seen on the glossy pages of magazines, or on the television screen. Except his face wasn't…fake. Wasn't a predictable doll. His utter attractiveness only made Shilo more angry. Someone so obviously foul shouldn't look so…

"Hello! Earth to Shilo!"

Blue's hand waved in front of Shilo's face.

"What? Oh, sorry. I was thinking."

"Uh huh." Blue smiled knowingly.

Before she could inquire further, Shilo's attention was stolen by the sudden arrival of Scarlett. The Madame's face was flushed happily, and she reeked of more perfume than usual.

"Valentine's at the station! We have to go, Blue, and pick him up." She glanced at Shilo. "You can come too."

"Me?" Shilo squeaked.

"No, I'm talking about the other pale wraith in boy clothes. Of course you, silly girl! Now come; we can't be long. Someone less…friendly, might get there first."

All of Shilo's former anger was forgotten. She was going outside, in the daylight! To a crowded train station! And in this disguise, no one could recognize her. For the first time in her life, she felt a weight lifting from her shoulders. Shilo wasn't afraid of being hurt. She was actually excited, down to the marrow of her bones.

"Well, come on. We can't stand here all day!" Blue linked arms with Shilo and dragged her down the stairs, giggling at her blissful expression.


	19. Valentine

_Long time, no see right?  
Sorry, loves. I've been a busy little bee, but I'd like to start posting regularly again. Many of you have commented on my excessive typos, so Ms. T is now my official Editor in Chief. If you have any complaints regarding grammer, blame her. ;)_

Shilo gazed out of the old car's window with eager eyes, knowing that she'd never forget the sight as long as she lived. The city's light had not changed drastically with the day. A sick grey pallor still hung over everything, everywhere you look, invoking a feeling of desolation and fear. But it seemed to Shilo that the people were doing their best to combat this depressing aura. Men with suits and briefcases, school children hanging around benches and climbing onto buses, preoccupied women flitting in and out of shops…

The visual of regular, everyday life set to such a grim backdrop was surreal, but also stirring. Shilo had forgotten that there existed people who still bought groceries and went to the dentists, without an overt fear of being touched by betrayal and blood. She was taken back, once again, to all those years in her bedroom; so many hours spent watching people on T.V with lives so different than hers. And now she was seeing it played out before her, in real life. _Her life? _As the lemon drove slowly through the sea of busy pedestrians, Shilo wondered if this monotonous day-to-day could ever be hers. "Change the world", her father had said- but she didn't have the inclination, let alone the means. Shilo would have been satisfied to live in relative peace and normalcy; maybe go to college, have a little apartment, eat cereal in the mornings and walk to the bookstore…

They finally found a parking spot outside the station.

"Now child," Scarlett began seriously. "Stay close to Blue. Do not wander off. And for god's sake…" she sighed. "Try to look like you belong."

Shilo nodded firmly and arranged her expression into what she imagined was inherently male and determinedly grim. Blue snorted.

"You look constipated."

Her expression quickly changed to annoyance. Laughing, Blue grabbed Shilo by the hand and pulled her from the car.

"Oh, come on _Jack. _Relax."

"Well, aren't you two a precious couple." Scarlett said, chuckling.

Although there was really no reason to, Shilo blushed.

"Aren't we? Oh Jack! Where have you been all my life?"

Shilo rolled her eyes but didn't try to loosen Blue's grip on her hand. A passing man, maybe around twenty, whistled and winked, mumbling to his companion about "that dude's" luck.

It was working! Shilo breathed a sigh of relief and walked more confidently, trying to move with the same swagger Graverobber possessed. When the three stopped to wait for the train, a nearby girl eyed "Jack" appreciatively.

"Is it bad," she whispered, "that I pass so well for a guy?"

"Oh no! Androgyny is hot!" Blue wrapped her arms around Shilo's neck, glaring at the nearby girl who'd been staring before planting a kiss there.

Shilo started. She certainly hadn't been expecting that, even in the spirit of innocent fun. Never been kissed by anyone but her father, she wasn't used to another person's lips being so…intimate. Shilo discovered that her neck must be an incredibly sensitive area, because under her jacket she felt goosebumps.

A train whistled shrilly, followed by a loud rumbling and billows of smoke. Shilo shook away her curious thoughts and stood on the tips of her toes, smiling at the huge black locomotive screeching to a halt. Scarlett was doing the same thing, only much louder and more enthusiastically. People were beginning to glance her way in amusement.

"Oh look! Here he comes! Here he comes!"

Shilo was beginning to worry that the Madam might faint from excitement and have to be carried away by a truck when her attention was completely stolen away. Other people in their vicinity had also ceased conversation and were staring at the figure stepping onto the platform.

Even after being awed regularly by Graverobber's impressive height, Shilo was wide-eyed and open mouthed- the man was obviously two heads taller! His silky black hair was tied in a long ponytail, and carefully coiffed in a stiff _bouffant_ at the front. His skin was fainter than Scarlett's, almost butterscotch- but covered in a light dusting of gold shimmer. Black liner extended from the corners of his dark eyes, already slanted, and his lips were pursed in a way to where you _knew _he was used to this type of reception. The man was incredibly thin –Shilo realized this was why his height seemed so extreme- and was wearing an aqua blue, sleeveless kimono, open over a smooth chest and tight leather pants. He walked towards them with the loping grace of some large cat, with one hand on his hip and the other swinging. This impressively flamboyant figure could be none other than Scarlett's brother, Valentine.


	20. Memoria di Celebrazione

Pavi walked inside his bedroom suite, trying to escape the bustle in the hallways and courtyards. He was used to it by now; the constant charity events and fundraisers. But somehow it seemed worse this time. Maybe it was just his mood. The calendar on Pavi's wall caught his attention. He stared at the pictures of Italy's beautiful countryside, wishing he could remember the taste of the air. A familiar date jumped out at him, and he felt his mouth open slightly. Two weeks. His birthday was in two weeks. That, at least, explained all the commotion. Every year each of the siblings had a long and raucous birthday celebration. This time, though, Pavi felt sick at the thought. He practically ran to his vanity and began rifling through the bottom drawer.

_Paviche angrily slammed the drawer. There was nothing there, nothing that would help! He leaned in closer to the mirror and examined the grotesque deformities on his face- a wrinkle, there, under his eye! And the small, pockmarked scar of a pimple near his lip. He couldn't cover them up. Paviche took a moment to control himself and sighed. Regardless, he was still beautiful. He rolled a tube of lipstick through his fingers. Maybe just a little more- then his mouth would really pop, distracting from the marks on his face._

_A creak? Paviche turned around and saw his door slowly swing open. Magdalene stood in the hallway, an almost confused expression on her tearstained face. She was in just a robe, hair messily pulled behind her head. Paviche was hit with a strange sense of déjà vu. _

"_Lovely Magdalene! What-a brings you here?" _

_He stood up hesitantly. Magdalene closed the door behind her, shaking with poorly-repressed sobs. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and turned to the window._

"_So old, Paviche…and what have I done? So old," she said thickly. "Such a waste."_

_A shock of horror traveled through Paviche's body as his eyes flicked quickly to the calendar on the wall. _Her birthday.

"_I normally…I hate…" Magdalene swallowed and turned around. "But you're the only one I can trust."_

"_Bella…"_

_Her eyes moved to his neck, to the purple bruises left there from the night before. The beautiful woman's tortured expression turned bitter, and she held herself a little straighter._

"_Which obviously says something, doesn't it?"_

_Paviche bit his lip in thought, trying to think of a way to defend his actions. But Magdalene held up her hand, no longer shaking._

"_Do not bother with excuses, Paviche. I am no fool. I know your sins. After all, your face is beginning to rival even mine in the papers." She smiled sardonically. "I have told you before- you are far more beautiful than I."_

_Paviche saw a tear drop from the corner of her eye, and quickly glanced down at his hands. How could he have been so careless? No, that was a pointless question. Paviche could still taste the crippling mix of Zydrate, alcohol, and chocolate on his tongue. He looked up slowly, a sad expression on his face._

"_Ai, tesoro. Forgive me, bella, but you have-a ruined the surprise."_

_Magdalene froze. "What?"_

_Paviche walked forward and gently touched her shoulders, then kissed her on the head. _

"_Today-a is ours."_

_He thought quickly, running to his walk-in closet. There was a dress that one of them had left…yes! Blue, plain, and fairly clean- Paviche was sure it would fit. He also grabbed a pair of black slacks and an old green shirt. Holding them up for Magdalene to see, he said, "Or-a maybe, it is someone else's."_

_Magdalene smiled slowly. Paviche handed her the dress and she slipped it on- a perfect fit. He also changed into the more common clothes, then kissed his angel, almost rough in his apology._

"_We will-a go anywhere. Anywhere you-a please." _

_There was a moment of thought; Magdalene seemed almost shy when she looked up at him again._

"_There is somewhere. But its, well, it's a bit silly."_

_Paviche sighed in exasperation and tickled her sides. "I can be-a silly, mia cara."_

_Magdalene laughed, and he thought there was no sound more beautiful in the world._

"_Alright. Every year, this time, there's a fair held on the edge of the city- near the more rural area. I've always wanted to…"_

"_Done-a!" _

_Paviche threw open his window and plucked a yellow flower from the box on his sill. He tucked it in the hair behind Magdalene's ear. Today, she was so much brighter than usual- he thought he would be melted by her warm glow. _

_The window was set right above Paviche's green house roof. _

"_Climb-a on my back. Down we go-a, and then escape!"_

_He laughed happily as Magdalene climbed on his back. She giggled, in a way he'd never heard before, and kissed his cheek tenderly._

Pavi found what he'd been looking for. The picture in his hand was soft to the touch and warm. He and Mag, with cotton candy in their hands and happy smiles on their faces. With the bright sunshine in the background and the bustle of a carnival all around, they could have been anyone. But who had taken this? Pavi sighed. It did not matter now. He gently touched his finger to the picture, to the lock of Mag's hair that had escape from her pony tail, frozen forever hanging in the air.


	21. Change of Mind

"…the geishas were so mild, so soft spoken! That crass brute who owned them, though, disgusted me. After we traded the silk, I drove him to distraction and stole the ladies away!"

Being in Valentine's presence was comparable to falling under a spell. As the old car rattled through back streets towards The Glow, Shilo could only stare stupidly at the entrancing man- she was sitting behind Scarlett, and therefore had a great view. Blue, being relatively used to her uncle by now, kept shooting Shilo amused glances.

Valentine swept a nonexistent piece of hair away from his forehead and propped an elbow on his crossed knee.

"Sooooo, Jack- how old are you?"

Shilo jumped and hurriedly closed her mouth in embarrassment. She was having some trouble concentrating- how did Valentine fit himself in the car?

"Um…"

"A halfwit," Valentine said sadly. "And what a shame…such an attractive boy!"

"I'm seventeen, sir," Shilo said.

"Mmm, I thought you looked young. With such delicate features, light countenance, I'd have guessed even fifteen. Careful Blueberry, I might just snatch him away," Valentine said lasciviously.

Shilo laughed nervously as Blue grasped her hand.

"No chance, Uncle V- he's all mine."

She said this matter-of-factly, and Shilo was once again seized by that warm sensation in her gut. It was so nice to feel wanted. But then she remembered the last time someone had really wanted her, and pulled her hand away from Blue's. They drove into The Glow's garage, and Shilo felt immensely relieved.

"There's new laundry detergent in the kitchen, Jack," Scarlett said breathlessly as she tried to lug one of Valentine's large suitcases.

Shilo nodded- an excuse to hurry away! She generally cleaned the rooms in late afternoon, just as the girls were waking up. She didn't want to disturb their rest- or their work, so she'd developed a system that put her in an almost perfect space of time.

"Wonderful!" Valentine clapped his hands together once. "I'm sure my room could use some refreshing." He gestured to Shilo, who knew she'd cleaned that room only an hour before but didn't want to argue. Blue tried to whisper something in her ear, but Valentine quickly wrapped an arm around Shilo's shoulders and swept her up the stairs.

* * *

"My eyes hurt."

"Don't think about it."

"But you told me to concentrate!"

Graverobber sighed and lowered his tweezers. "Is it bothering me you enjoy so much, or the actual act of whining? Because if it's the latter you can go stand in a corner and bitch at the spiders."

Demetri shuddered. "Even you're preferable to that."

"You're scared of spiders." Graverobber snorted.

"No. I just think they're disgusting. It's not the same thing." Demetri pointedly looked at Graverobber.

"Right," he laughed, holding up the vial again. "Now let's concentrate."

Demetri sighed-concentrating was not his strong suit.

Even old Zydrate glowed pretty bright, especially if you had to stare directly at it for full minutes. Clumps of the drug that had faded to white and congealed floated in the bright blue, reminding Demetri of the remains of old pizza, or semen. Graverobber was carefully plucking out pieces with tweezers and dropping them into a bowl.

"Be careful not to touch the fresher Z. It can absorb into the skin and cause irritation, or even kill cells."

"I know all of this. What's the point?"

"Discipline."

Demetri repressed the urge to continue grumbling. He didn't want to be poked in the pressure point of his neck again.

"I call the white stuff 'cheese'. It dries in the sun after about three hours. Leave it out too long and it's useless. The cheese can be smoked or inhaled- I just figured this out a few weeks ago. Here, you try."

Demetri took the Zydrate vial from Graverobber's white hand and successfully plucked out the flapping strand of cheese. He dropped it into the bowl and grinned.

"See, not that hard!"

The smile quickly fell as he noticed a patch of wet on his glove.

"Oh shit! OH SHIT!"

Demetri jumped up and looked around madly. The closest thing to him was someone's cereal from a breakfast some time earlier in the week. He dunked his hand in and looked desperately at Graverobber. It was then that Demetri noticed the man was holding a half empty water bottle in his hand and laughing uproariously.

"Cute," Demetri said, yanking his hand from the bowl and shaking drops of sour milk and Fruit Loops at Graverobber's general direction. "Really cute."

Graverobber's deep laughs subsided. "It's the hair."

He stood up and stretched, glancing at a battered digital clock.

"They should be back soon, and our guest has something for me. Let's go check."

"Guest?"

Graverobber eyed Demetri's seraphic face and, once again, burst into hearty laughter. Demetri shook his head. Sometimes, the man was just plain _weird_.

* * *

"Mmm, Italy. My favorite place to travel."

The record squeaked a bit, and a strong operatic voice filled the room. Shilo was on her hands and knees, scrubbing under a dresser. For the past hour Valentine had pleasantly commanded her to clean areas in the room that required her to either stand on a ladder or bend over. It was starting to worry Shilo, especially now that he was lighting candles and playing romantic music. She sat up nervously.

"I'm sure you heard about that wonderful performer that died- Blind Mag. Such a shame. Such a scandal. A tragedy!"

Shilo quickly turned her face away. "I heard."

Not only was Valentine's agile step reminiscent of a cat but so, apparently, was his silence. Shilo hadn't heard him move but there he was, kneeling behind her.

"Such a sweet, sensitive soul. Don't be upset, darling."

Lips grazed down her neck, then up again, finally resting on and nibbling her ear. Heart thudding painfully, Shilo tried to think of a subtle way she could extract herself from the situation, but her mind had gone curiously blank. She sucked in what was meant to be a calming breath, which only served to confuse her further; the smell of sweat and honey filled her nose.

"I'll make it all better…"

Shilo gasped. Valentine's hardness was shoved against her pants. He moaned. Teeth bit into her neck and she felt paralyzed. All so much! A small part of her whispered how happy she was that he hadn't kissed her lips, because she didn't want that taken by this…

Valentine shoved a hand down her pants, and froze.

"You're a girl."

Shilo wanted desperately now to escape the terrifying silence, but Valentine held her tightly, nuzzling her hair.

"Well, well…I'd like to hear your story. I'm sure it's very interesting, love. But first-"

The door flew open. At the sight of Graverobber's flaming eyes Shilo realized that her own had filled with tears, and had been for some time. Valentine let go of her waist and stood up slowly.

"When my sister decided to house train you, I didn't realize she'd neglected a lesson on manners. More specifically- knocking."

"Jack?" Graverobber stared directly at Shilo, and she ran to the door.

"I'll be here when you want me, _Jack," _Valentine called mockingly as they moved down the hallway. "And you _will _want me!"

The door slammed, thankfully cutting off Valentine's raucous cackling. Shilo stared stoically ahead, ignoring the girls who were curiously peeking out of their bedrooms. She was also, for some reason, scared to meet Graverobber's eyes. He was silent as well until they turned the corner and stopped before the basement steps.

"Are you all right?" he asked. Shilo didn't understand his voice. It was so…cold.

"Yes. Thank you," she whispered, ashamed of the horse croak. Shilo forced herself to look at Graverobber. She instantly regretted it. His face was livid, filled with terrible fury.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, shrinking against the wall.

"What?" Graverobber boomed. Shilo jumped. "You're sorry? Why? Why would you be sorry?"

"Because…"

Shilo realized suddenly that she didn't know why she was sorry, and had in fact no reason to be apologetic. She stood straight once again.

"That's better.

Graverobber's voice turned surprisingly soft, and he tilted up Shilo's chin. Looking her squarely in the eye, he said, "Have some dignity."

Just as quick the moment ended, and he dropped his hand. "I'll be back."

Shilo's opened the door with a trembling hand- no longer from fear. What was she feeling? There was too much going on inside all at once to know for sure. Now that she was alone she let the tears flow freely. The coolness of the basement was reassuring.

"Are you crying?"

Shilo jumped, and instantly annoyed. Why was she always being startled? Demetri was sitting cross-legged on a wooden crate, throwing a ball back and forth between his hands.

"Sorry, I couldn't help it once I found out you were here."

Demetri whistled and threw the ball to her. Much to his obvious surprise she caught it.

"Don't you have better things to be doing?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Don't you?"

"I just finished my shift. Unlike some people, I have a normal job."

Demetri laughed and leaned forward. "Honey, nothing around here is normal."

For lack of anything better to say or do, Shilo threw him the ball back. After a few awkward, silent moments of playing catch Demetri cleared his throat.

"Really though. Why were you crying?

Shilo shrugged. "There's just a lot going on." She expected Demetri to mock her again, but instead he mumbled,

"I know what you mean." He sighed. "Here."

Instead of the ball, he threw her a half eaten candy bar. She almost dropped it in surprise.

"Thanks."

Demetri was spared having to respond by Graverobber's reappearance. He still looked put out, but the cold fury was gone.

"Go take a nap, kid. In another couple of hours we're headed out."

Demetri saluted and hopped up the stairs. Shilo frowned.

"I want to go too."

Instead of denying her right out, Graverobber studied her face for a few moments before finally nodding.

"Okay."

And that was it. Without further explanation for his change of mind, Graverobber turned on his heel and followed Demetri. Shilo stared at the wall, feeling completely stunned and way, _way _out of her depth.

"But like he said," she mumbled, crawling into bed, "what's normal around here?"


	22. Corpses and Ghosts

Tendrils of grey smog wrapped around Graverobber's legs- the angry fingers of the dead who knew their rest would be disturbed. He slugged through the sticky mud of the cemetery. It had rained that day, so everything was disgustingly wet and Graverobber was in a foul mood. He leaned against a mausoleum and waited for Demetri and Shilo to catch up, trying to calm his ire in the process. It was the rain, always the rain, falling from the sky in mocking drops or laughing sheets to make him miserable. The young bloods were closer now. Demetri was used to this kind of weather, but Shilo kept getting stuck in the muck. Graverobber was impressed- she hadn't complained once.

"All right," Graverobber began with a sigh, before the other two could begin bickering. He half expected Demetri to pull Shilo's hair.

"Like I said before; Shilo, you watch. Demetri?"

The kid grinned mockingly at Shilo and dropped onto his haunches, peering at the tomb's lock. While he dug through his pockets, looking for the picks, Graverobber's attention was stolen by a red glint in his peripherals. He turned slowly. In front of the mausoleum to his right was a bottle of wine and two glasses. One was filled to the brim. Graverobber was used to seeing flowers left for dead relatives, even letters and trinkets. But this? It reminded his of kids leaving out cookies for Santa.

"Ho ho ho," he murmured.

"Am not- oh." Demetri was dragging a body from the tomb, but dropped it with a thud next to his instruments to examine the wine.

"This looks like a trap." Graverobber was thinking the same thing. He lifted the glass, sniffed, and was struck with a sudden thought.

"Drink it," he told Demetri.

"But it could be poison."

"There's only one way to find out."

Graverobber grinned in wolfish amusement and shoved the glass into Demetri's trembling hands. A general tested his soldier's loyalty on the field of battle, where loyalty was put on the line in the face of danger. Demetri grimaced and, inexplicably, glanced at Shilo, who was fiddling obliviously with the body. He closed his eyes, sighed, and took a small sip. Slow seconds went by, and Demetri's temples grew wet with sweat.

"If the wine was poisoned it would be with a slow-moving one. GeneCops would want me alive long enough to wander away."

Demetri exhaled heavily and downed the rest of the wine. He would have asked why in the hell Graverobber had risked it, but that would have been pointless. He knew, and the knowledge sat uncomfortable in his stomach. Now, at last, he was trusted.

"You are such a bastard," he said, clearing his throat. Graverobber laughed and poured himself a glass.

"I knew it was safe. I couldn't smell anything." He lifted the glass, inclined his head to Demetri. "Your good health."

"Is this enough?" Shilo called. Graverobber and Demetri whipped their heads around in shock. Shilo had the Zydrate gun in one hand, three glowing vials in the other. Her legs were folded daintily, comical in the male clothes.

"You could have broken something!" Demetri snapped. "You had no idea what you were doing!"

Graverobber laughed uproariously, and Shilo smiled in smug satisfaction. She stood up and clapped the vials of Z into Demetri's palm.

"Unlike some people, I pay attention."

Ignoring his furious glare, Shilo approached Graverobber. His bellows had faded to an approving smile. What was the kid thinking? Her eyes were very warm as she plucked the half drunk glass of wine from Graverobber's hand.

"To your good health," she said softly, pressing her lips to the glass, black eyes never leaving his face.

"Can we move on now?" Demetri yelled.

Graverobber quickly tore his gaze from Shilo's and nodded. A distraction was welcome. A distraction from the red smudges on Shilo's cheeks and her long, white fingers around the glass.

What he needed was a cold shower, or maybe a nice hard slap on the wrist.

Demetri trudged on, quickly moving onto the next group of gravestones and leaning against one with a sigh. Shilo had been following proudly, but stopped mid-step.

_Shit. _Graverobber had miscalculated. He hadn't realized they'd moved this close.

Shilo walked slowly up to the large grey mausoleum, hands hanging loosely at her sides. Demetri was, at first, oblivious to the implications of their location. Then he noticed the faded bronze letters, the family name now glowing starkly against the moonlight. Shilo extended an equally bright hand and opened the door.

"Have you…"

"No," Graverobber answered. Shilo nodded and stepped gingerly inside, as if afraid the floor would cave in under her. Without looking back she opened a hidden door and headed down the uneven stone passage.

"Come on," Graverobber growled, grasping Demetri by the sleeve of his jacket.

"It's like she's going into the tomb instead of leaving it," he murmured in response. Graverobber stayed silent, unwilling to admit that he felt the same way. Shilo was a good ways down the tunnel already. Graverobber wasn't familiar with the uneven ground. He held up the three vials of Z to light their way. It was as if the drug grew more powerful in complete darkness, and it filled the entire passage with eerie light. What was visible of Shilo's white skin glowed around the edges with blue. Her black hair seemed a piece of the nighttime itself. Graverobber thought she looked like a ghost, and shivered. A spirit in a tomb. This weak reaction annoyed Graverobber, and he walked along faster, catching up with Shilo as she entered the empty house.

Complete silence. No noise from the street, no sounds of even their own ragged breathing. It was as if the Wallace house was wrapped in a thick and impenetrable cocoon. Graverobber was used to tombs. He desecrated the dead, talked and joked with the corpses. But this was different. Laughter had no place here, and Graverobber knew that he didn't either.

It was very dark, aside from the Zydrate. Obviously the electric bills were long overdue. They moved through the hallways, everything still as a museum of Shilo's unhappy past. The dusty shelves, there, a half empty coffee mug, here. Graverobber dug through his pockets, eventually finding a somewhat-clean handkerchief. They had circled back around the stairs, and Graverobber figured Shilo would need it if the ascended. But when she turned to face him, her eyes were dry.

"Let's go home," she said quietly. "I'll come back later for the more valuable stuff. Things I can sell." And just like that, she turned around and walked back into the tunnel. Graverobber didn't know why her blank and expressionless face disturbed him so much; but it did. He was reminded very strongly of someone.

The silence Shilo left behind was uncomfortable.

"I thought…." Demetri began.

"Me too." Graverobber looked at the boy's wide, scared eyes- and Demetri was a boy, he realized. A boy wrapped in a homespun coat of arrogance, born from the need of self preservation and fear. Where did he come from? Where did any of them come from? All of a sudden Graverobber was thankful to not be standing there in shadows with his own nameless unease. He's realized long ago that it can be hard to hide from yourself, but fooling another person is easier, and far more convincing. He clasped Demetri's shoulder briefly and followed Shilo again down the tunnel.

"I'd rather a corpse," Demetri said with a sigh, "then ghosts."


	23. Lips

**Lips**

Amber Sweet was, to put it mildly, annoyed.

"You let her get away?!" she screeched, scattering papers and the remains of a French lunch.

"Ms. Sweet," the lead guard flinched a bit as soufflé splattered his face. "We have cameras and men posted around the perimeter. She didn't enter by any means we could see, but somehow managed to get in. By the time someone noticed the surveillance images, she'd left."

Amber took a calming breath and sat down. Once upon a time she would have had them shot, but as Gene Co's CEO, appearances had to be kept. Instead, Amber considerably reduced their weekly pay, which was the same in her mind as sending someone to bed with no supper. She picked up a cream puff and held it to her lips, waving the guards away.

"Wait!" She'd been struck by a sudden thought. "Was anyone with her?"

The guard looked uncomfortable. "Yes."

"Well?"

"We believe the Wallace girl was accompanied by someone who could be the Graverobber. A younger man was also with them, equally suspicious looking."

Amber slowly placed the cream puff into her mouth, trying to hide the tremble in her fingers. "Bring me the footage."

The guard nodded and hurriedly left the room. Amber sighed, eyeing the tray of decadent treats on her desk. All the stress was making her indulge far more than usual. One day the sleek business suit and cropped blazer would get too tight, but Amber chose to ignore that thought for the moment. Instead, she shifted her focus to the two men sitting in large chairs to her left. Luigi was wearing that puppy dog expression she'd grown used to seeing. Pavi, on the other hand, was staring at the window instead of into his mirror. Amber squinted at is borrowed face. She'd been so busy lately…had hardly looked at her brothers, let alone studied them with any scrutiny. The uncomfortable crawling sensation of having forgotten something worked its way up Amber's arm.

"I'm so sorry brothers," Amber cooed. "I've abandoned you too much lately. Luigi, remember when we'd inspect the kitchens together and threaten the help? And Pavi, how long has it been since we've had a nightcap?"

_Months. _Pavi's eyes flashed, and suddenly Amber remembered. A chill went up her spine, and she cursed her negligence. It wouldn't be a mistake she'd make twice.

* * *

"Shi-baby, what's the matter?"

Shilo snapped to attention, squinting in the fluorescent light at Blue, who was ambling into the kitchen, messy haired and yawning. One dreadlock stuck up higher than the rest, but Shilo was in no mood to laugh.

"What? Nothing."

"You were washing that same plate when I passed by five minutes ago."

Shilo guilty put the plate back down into the sink full of soapy water. She sighed, and stared at the black-painted window.

"Even now I feel trapped. I'm lost, scared all of the time, frustrated…and there's nothing I can do about it. Not a damn thing," Shilo whispered. Swear words felt wonderful in her mouth, she'd recently discovered; new and dangerous. Even that she didn't feel as poignantly as usual. She'd tried so hard to be grateful- and she was. But the normalcy that she yearned for was still out of reach.

Thin arms circled her waist. Blue put her cheek on Shilo's shoulder and said, "I might have an idea."

* * *

"Ta da!"

Shilo's eyes widened in shock behind dramatic eye make-up. Her lips were almost purple in color, and her hair had been sprayed with an auburn wash-out dye, straightened into uneven points. Black cardigan, black tee-shirt of a band she didn't know, black leather pants…and bright purple pumps. Shilo looked her age, but with _an edge. _It made her laugh, and laugh some more, until Blue was checking the dye to see if the chemicals had ever been tested. Shilo grabbed the bottle from her hand.

"We can take the back way."

She was filled with fizzing, electric energy. They were two teenage girls sneaking out from under their parents' noses to find a dance club. Never mind one's was a brothel Madame where her daughter was employed, and the other was a foster-guardian who violated dead bodies. Shilo had to choke back her laughter as they hid behind some boxes, waiting for a few drunken customers to stumble away. It was all so absurd. The sunset was barely there; like spilled medicine, acidic. Shilo was under it though; outside and breathing all of its polluted glory. She thought it looked beautiful.

"It's a ten minute drive from here," Blue said, linking arms with Shilo and guiding her down the sidewalk. "Twenty minutes, maybe thirty walking. Want a cab?"

"No! Let's walk."

The two clicked down the street of the "warehouse district", into the part of town where college aged kids vacated various clubs, bars, restaurants, and even little secondhand stores. Shilo and Blue didn't stick out, except maybe for the former's ridiculously awed grin, the way she looked in happy wonder at frolicking punk rockers and gaggles of squealing goth-girls around glowing neon advertisements.

"This one!" Blue yelled over sudden noise. She dragged Shilo down some steps and into a gritty hallway with no bouncer, just throngs of people dressed in alternating brights and darks. Inside the actual club it was lit only by strategically placed black lights. The music was upbeat techno, and everywhere around Shilo was flailing arms and whipping hair. Blue pulled her right into a throng of dancers, and began grinding her own hips. Shilo's heart skipped a beat, like the wings of a startled bird. _All these people. _Touching her, surrounding her. She was an anonymity. Free. A boy with pretty lips and piercings down his eyebrow draped an arm around Shilo's shoulder mid-dance. She matched his rhythm without thinking. He smelled like sweat, sweet sweat and coffee. Blue had quickly disappeared into the crowd, and Shilo had the briefest urge to reach out for reassurance. But then the song sped up, and she couldn't help bouncing up and down with the surrounding group. Joy bubbled in Shilo's chest and she yelled, joined in all the hair flipping, and laughed. Her dancing partner, who she'd mentally dubbed Lips, was singing along with words she couldn't hear underneath the thudding bass. His eyes were very bright, and when he noticed Shilo's wild abandon, he laughed too.

"Do you want a drink?" Lips yelled into her ear. Still grinning in a way she worried looked manic, Shilo nodded. Lips grabbed her hand and she nearly shivered, it felt so good. The long counter was mostly vacated. Lips tossed the bartender a few dollars and ordered two waters.

"People want to get drunk when they're dancing," he told her, voice still raised over the noise. "It's their first impulse, and biggest mistake. Moving like that, you have to stay hydrated." He winked, handed Shilo a bottle, and clinked it against his.

Shilo took a sip of water, trying to come up with something witty to say and break the ice. Her mind drew a complete blank, and she though the words, "knock-knock." This made her smile, and Lips readily returned it.

"You have beautiful lips," Shilo blurted, before she could help herself. Just as quickly she clamped her own together in horror. _Stupid, stupid…_

"Thank you! I've never heard that before from a stranger."

Shilo breathed a small sigh of relief. "I'm surprised."

"Hi, Surprised. I'm Riley." Lips laughed.

_Riley. _Shilo thought it in her head, over and over again, as loud as she could.

"This going to sound cheesy, but you look really familiar," Riley said. "Do I know you from somewhere, Surprised?"

Shilo had to fight hard to keep away some stupid expression or other. "Probably not. I…don't get out much," she added lamely. Riley only nodded slowly, scrutinizing her over his bottle of water. Shilo found herself noticing little things about him, like the hair sticking to his temples or the small bead of water clinging to his lips. God, the prior nickname was so fitting. Ironically enough, Shilo thought, the one he'd given her was too.

* * *

Demetri cursed silently to himself, the words on repeat like the tremble in his hands. It had been a long time since he'd worked alone, and the Graverobber wouldn't let him shoot up with any of their stash. Bad coincidence that Mr. Smith had contacted him. At noon Demetri had slinked into a decrepit diner he often frequented for a chocolate shake. Waiting for him was a message one of the waitresses had taken down: "Ten o'clock, same place as before. –S" Bad coincidence, because he was relapsing; not nearly focused enough for espionage. Demetri padded silently down the wooden platform, digging through his pockets and only find a few loose M&Ms. He shoved these into his mouth like they were insulin pills to a gasping diabetic, and tried to make out any moving shadows in the darkness of the train station.

"You're considerably lacking in your usual talents tonight."

Demetri jumped, and turned around. Fuck. He was right. Mr. Smith was standing behind him, outlined one by a flickering streetlight a ways back. Demetri hadn't been nearly quiet enough entering the platform, apparently, and hadn't been listening as well as usual either.

"Let's just say it's a bad night."

"Just one night, I hope? It would be an awful shame if this…bad night, distracted you from your job. You _do _remember your job?"

"Of course," Demetri said. Spying. Money. A little voice inside his head whispered, _betrayal. _He shrunk away from that word. Shrunk away from the weak implications.

"Good. Because I've been waiting around long enough. I'm ready for you to bring him to me."

Demetri raised an eyebrow. Everything Mr. Smith said sounded like a corny line from some old mobster film or horror flick. Under other circumstances he would have scoffed, never taken the man seriously. But something about the stranger chilled him, and his intuition told him not to laugh. Demetri swallowed- his mouth was suddenly very dry.

"When?"

"Soon. I'll let you know when the time is right. Until then…"

Without another word, Mr. Smith turned, and disappeared into the darkness. Demetri stood there for some time, feeling the new tools at his side, a lock of hair that had been recently washed. He thought about the last time he'd laughed, fucked, ran from GeneCops, gorged on a hamburger, entered that euphoric state of Z induced escape. He thought about freshly turned dirt under his fingers and the heady stench of death, piercing eyes, and a pair that were luminous, innocent.


	24. Memoria di Cicatrici

Once, very soon after coming to live with his estranged family, Pavi had been tricked by his brother into swallowing a live worm. It had been the most unpleasant sensation, something alive and wriggling inside him. Pavi had gagged until he'd vomited up the newly-dead worm. The experience had caused nightmares that had woken him up nights after.

This feeling Pavi currently had, though, would not be banished by making himself sick. He _felt _sick, almost like a bad hangover that wouldn't go away. Yet, for some reason he could not understand, the grey days seemed…clearer. As if a fog was slowly lifting from around him. Pavi stared at his face reflected in the window of his bedroom. Twisted, large, and covering the city like a scarred blanket.

_Hands, trembling. Bile rising in his throat. What…what was spinning? The room or him or him or the room or both of them at once and the whole world and everything that had existed…_

"_Pavi! Brother!" Amber choked. "It…it's not that bad. The doctors can fix it, just like mine. Breathe, Pavi, breathe…"_

_He stared at his sister for a moment, not recognizing her beautiful, unblemished face. And then daggers were in his chest and under his skin. That face would never again be his. Paviche was his face, and his face was no longer his, so Paviche was…no longer Paviche?_

"_Leave-a me."_

"_Brother, I-"_

"_LEAVE-A ME!"_

_He threw the small, handheld mirror that Amber had given him two years ago. It missed her shoulder by feet, crashed into the wall. His sister retreated hurriedly, slammed the door behind her and didn't look back. _

_Paviche turned around, curled into himself. He could not blame her._

_And then a crawling sensation, over his skin. Paviche shook his head, swatted at his arms, hugged himself even tighter and shut his eyes very, very tightly._

_Soft footsteps._

"_Can't you just-a leave me!"_

"_Paviche."_

_And then the tears came. He sobbed into his folded arms as the gentlest of hands touched his bare shoulder._

"_Let me see, Paviche."_

"_No…no…" he moaned. Magdalene could never see him this way. She would be repulsed, she would scream, she would run. No, he would hide. He would protect her! Yes. From the clicking behind his eyes, and the crawling on his arms, and the vibrations in the air that seemed to rend the very skin from his bones and…and…light, under his eyes…_

_She lifted his chin. Silence, and Paviche shuddered. _

"_What is the matter, my dearest?" she whispered. "I see nothing wrong."_

_Paviche slowly opened his eyes. Magdalene's face was very close to his, glowing. His angel. She kissed his forehead, and he wanted to vomit. How repulsed she must be! But still she touched his hideous deformity. Truly, truly an angel…_

"_You are beautiful, Paviche."_

_She kissed his cheeks, nose, chin, lips. Paviche closed his eyes and felt her warm, wet mouth. It was real to him, and slowly seemed to banish the strange flickers of sound that were slithering through the room and trying to catch him. She was not just an angel, but an arch angel with a fiery sword. Not opening his eyes, not daring to- lest he catch a glimpse of himself in some shining, immaculate surface- Paviche felt for the buttons of Magdalene's dress. He cradled her perfect breast in his hand and kissed it. _

_The footsteps outside his door sounded muffled and far away. _

"Pavi?"

He opened his eyes. Had he been asleep, dreaming? Amber was outside his door, holding a golden tray in her hands.

"Sister."

She entered the room and sat next to him on the bed. The wine in its crystal decanter was the same color as her lips. Amber smiled, and poured them both a glass. His body felt uncomfortably contorted and he took a long swig, drying to wash away the tangle of his nerves.

"It's been so long," Amber said, and kissed his hair.

Pavi was tired.


	25. The Rebellion

How long had they been dancing? Shilo didn't know and didn't care. In the crowded dance floor she'd literally run into Blue once or twice, who'd grinded or winked and continued on, depending on the situation. Always, though, at her side, front, and back was Riley. Shilo looked up into his face, and at times when the light shone on it just right she was able to notice little features she hadn't before. The creases at his mouth, how his nose turned up in the most adorable way. At one point she even though one of his eyes was the slightest bit smaller than the other. Riley's eyelashes were distractingly long…

When had he pulled her outside? Suddenly cool air was tearing at Shilo's hair and clothes. Riley's hand was firmly around her's as he leaned against the dirty brick wall. Both were trying to catch their breath, unable to talk just yet.

"….hi," Shilo managed to gasp, and Riley burst into laughter. He brushed back a sweaty piece of her hair.

"You're cute, Jack."

She wished he could say her real name. It would coat his tongue like candy.

"Thank you."

Their silence was companionable as they watched the night sky, the dingy lot behind the club. Riley rested his cheek on the top of Shilo's head, and she felt a little thrill of pleasure travel down to her toes and back up again.

"I hate this place," he said. "You can't see stars."

"Or sunshine."

"Or real color."

More silence. Riley began to hum something slow and sad, and Shilo suddenly had the urge to cry. She quickly swallowed it.

"It's like being trapped," Riley said. "Do you ever feel that way? As if there's a cage around you. And you have these really big wings. Beautiful wings! But they're all smooshed inside this fucking cage, and you can't do anything about…this sounds really, stupid."

Shilo shook her head wordlessly. If she opened her mouth then all the tears would escape, warm little traitors. Riley seemed to understand, though, and squeezed her hand tighter.

"Hey…" he began, hesitantly. "I want to show you something. Can we take a walk?"

They circled around the club and headed down the street to a boarded up Chinese restaurant.

"I've never eaten Chinese food," Shilo mused. Riley looked down at her in shock.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"God, Jack. We'll have to fix that."

"But it's closed."

Riley bit his lip, then grinned mischievously. "Another time. Right now…"

He tapped on one of the wooden boards twice in quick succession, once more slowly. After a few moments a hole on the other side of the building appeared like magic. Riley quickly dragged Shilo in, and slid back the wooden covering. She squinted in the darkness. It smelled like mold, and…syrup.

"Just in time for breakfast!"

A light clicked on, and Shilo gasped. She was immediately reminded of a tree house. The walls were decaying wood panel, patched over with scraps and covered in painting, posters…newspaper clippings, especially. A group of three sat on beanbag chairs near an antique lamp, and looked up in unison. The one girl was heavy set with pigtails and very blue eyes. The other two boys were obviously twins, dark haired and splattered with freckles. They were wearing tattered band tees eating large stacks of pancakes.

"People come in and out. Our movement has over thirty of us, all unsatisfied. All angry as hell. Right now we have one goal, and then everything else will fall in to place."

Riley grabbed Shilo's shoulders, and his eyes were glowing with excitement.

"Who is this generation's figurehead of change? Who is the one person that can rally together all of the people too scared to fight?"

He pointed to a banner hanging over the wall.

_Save Shilo._

"Jack? Are you okay? I thought you blacked out for a second."

Shilo blinked. "Sorry I…"

Riley froze. He'd propped Shilo against the wall after she nearly fainted, and upon opening her eyes in confusion she noticed the large newspaper cutting next to her head. A close up shot of a very scared girl.

"You…"

Shilo swallowed. "Please don't tell," was the first thing she could whisper. She was scared that Riley would lash out in anger that she'd lied to him in the club. To her immense surprise, he burst into laughter and wrapped her in a bone-crunching hug. Soon other hands were pulling her in, and someone shoved a sticky plate at her chest. Riley gently held her chin.

"Little lady," he began, eyes twinkling; "I think you have a story to tell."

Lucky for Shilo, Riley respected her secrets. He didn't push her for details about her rescuer, only thanked the moon and sun he or she existed. The quiet girl was Leona, and the hyper-active twins were Mikey and Jay. It seemed that everyone in the room could play an instrument but Shilo, and soon a laid-back jam session commenced. Riley on guitar, Leona on a little keyboard, Mikey with a ukulele and Jay with a set of bongos. Shilo sang with the songs she knew, hummed to those she didn't. Eventually something that she, thanks to cable, knew was called a blunt got lit and passed around. Riley instructed her on sucking in, breathing deep into her lungs. A large grin hit Shilo smack in the face and didn't seem ready to leave any time soon. It was obvious and surprising and delicious to her that Riley could not stop staring.

"We should get you back to your friend," he finally said. Leona and the twins told her goodbye, the latter two with a dramatic, flourishing bow each. Riley pulled Shilo back into the street, and it seemed a world that she no longer recognized.

* * *

Miraculously, no one noticed their stumbled entrance back into the bordello. Blue obviously didn't hold Riley's belief on water, because she was laughing raucously and clinging to Shilo's waist. For her part, life had never felt so…real. So full of life. It blew Shilo's mind that there were people- over thirty of them! – who had been searching for her. Who believed she was the answer to their prayers. Thank god Riley hadn't suggested some sort of battle plan yet, or shoved her face first into responsibility. She could still taste smoke in her mouth. Shilo separated from Blue in the hallway. The leather, the sweat…she'd never felt so brave. The weed seemed to still be thudding inside her skull, whispering one name, over and over again. Shilo kicked off her heels, aching feet applauding, and crept down the basement steps. Without pausing to take a breath or even think about what she was doing- Shilo was so beyond thinking- she opened the door.

* * *

Graverobber tossed his coat to the ground. His body ached, and so did his head. Where the fuck was Demetri? It seemed he hadn't seen Shilo for a while either, and that bothered him the most. When was the last time they'd spoken? He rubbed his forehead, wishing he was asleep or drunk or back in the freshly turned earth.

The basement door opened. At first Graverobber didn't recognize the woman there. He focused in on her bloodshot eyes, looked past the dyed hair and ridiculous outfit.

"Kid?"

Shilo grinned crookedly and shook her head.

"I'm not a kid."

He swallowed, hard. For the first time that statement was easy to believe. The curves of Shilo's body were more pronounced than ever- hips obviously round under the tight casing of leather, her calves oddly pronounced. The weird little sweater thing she had on was unbuttoned over a tight tee-shirt that just barely showed the points of her hipbones. Shilo was barefoot, and this counteracted the Zydrate-whore look, made her look whimsical. Young but not young. Graverobber took a deep breath, and got a whiff of Shilo's smell- soap, Blue's perfume, sweat, and marijuana.

"Where the fuck have you been?" His eyes narrowed.

Shilo shook her head, advanced on Graverobber. He couldn't move, though every synapse was screaming for him to push away this _girl, _this _child. _She pressed herself to him and shuddered, placed her palms gently against his chest. Unconsciously Graverobber moved his fingers to the exposed bit of her hip. So soft. The thought of corrupting this innocence repelled him just as it aroused him. He moved his hands to cup her ass. She was shaking, and the eyes that bored into him looked unfocused, sleepy. _It would be so easy. _Shilo closed her eyes and parted her lips. Graverobber lifted a strand of her hair. It was lit by blue, by the shred of light falling through the door she'd left open. He took a very deep breath.

"Get out, kid."

She was kissing the exposed part of his chest.

"While you can."

Her lips opened at his neck, just enough so that her teeth touched his skin.

"Shilo."

A finger hooked his belt loop.

"GET OUT!"

Graverobber pushed her away, turned around and kicked the bed. He heard a strangled little gasp behind him, and she ran up the stairs. Graverobber collapsed on the bed. She was scared. _Good. _Only then was he aware of his erection. Good that she should run. Graverobber could feel her small body on his, and smell her sweat. So close. He'd come so close.

Good that she should be afraid.


	26. Slipping into Silence

_Forgive any probable typos...my editor is on sick leave! Also, forgive what you're about to read. A couple of people requested Gramber smut. ._

"I thought we had a deal. What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Graverobber turned around slowly. Amber was disheveled looking, despite still being in her pencil skirt and finely cut blazer. This mad glint was in her eye, an exhausted kind of insanity he'd never noticed before.

"What are you talking about?"

They met in the middle, under a low hanging roof that dripped rusty water onto the cracked dumpster. _Tap. Tap. Tap. _Like Amber's heels on the pavement. It grated on Graverobber's nerves, like they were cheese. He'd just wanted to be alone.

"Once upon a time," Amber spat, "you worked for me. And now I see you escorting that…that criminal around, like a matrade?"

She pointed her finger at him, ridiculously. He grabbed her wrist in his and only squeezed harder when she hissed.

"Listen to me, _Ms. Sweet_. The only reason you're alive is because I haven't decide that I want you dead yet. Understand? One- I work for no one. Two- neither of us are one to talk about criminals. And three…"

Graverobber yanked Amber practically off her feet, until she landed against his chest with a soft thud. It had been a long time since he'd smelled that strong perfume, the sweat that seemed uniquely Amber- leather, dirty silk, chemicals. She tried to pull away from him, and that too was signature Amber, their recently abandoned game of cat and mouse.

"Three…you sound stupid trying to say things in French."

He spun her around, pinned her against the dumpster. Amber clawed at his chest in an attempt to escape. Graverobber allowed himself a small laugh before releasing her now-red wrists, using his free hands to push the pencil skirt up her thighs. They were bigger than he'd remembered.

"Putting on some weight, Amber?"

"Shut the fuck up," she snarled, slapping Graverobber and pulling him down for a kiss with a swift yank of his hair. The pencil skirt fell into the dirty puddle at their feet, and Graverobber sunk his fingers into Amber's hip. He liked the added weight. Was it his earlier encounter with Shilo or the gap since his last one with Amber that made him so damn horny? How ironic- the only women that could really turn him on where enemies.

Graverobber felt that Amber wasn't wearing underwear. He pulled off her jacket after dropping his own, and unclasped the black bra from the front. It hung on her shoulders like a dead snake skin. Graverobber nipped at Amber's breasts as she freed the boner from his pants.

For a while there was only the moans, the panting for breath. Their theme song. And then, just as Graverobber knew she would, Amber began to talk.

"I don't know…which I want more," she said, squeezing her knees tighter around Graverobber's hips so it was easier to push herself up and down. "To succeed, or to fail."

"What are you talking around," he asked against her neck.

"If I don't try, if I finish what Daddy started, then I haven't proved anythin-ah."

Graverobber flipped Amber around and drug his teeth down her shoulder blade, his hands protecting her chest from the cold metal. Her skin was slick with sweat against his own.

"If I were you…" Graverobber began, thinking about Shilo's quiet indignation. He tasted the sweat on Amber's back, a little piece of him marveling at how no matter the person, everyone is made up of pretty much the same shit. "If I were you I'd be nervous."

* * *

"Shilo! What the hell?"

The tears blurred every tacky color in Blue's closet to a sort of sticky looking rainbow swirl. Shilo had torn off her get-up and tossed the pieces against the squished hangers, not making much of an impact, and now stood shivering in her underwear. Blue was part of the wet blur of color now, but Shilo didn't care anymore. She sat down on the floor and sobbed.

"Shi, baby…"

Shilo fell against Blue's chest, slowly calmed by the steady stroke of hand to hair.

"I'm really stupid," she finally sniffed. "Really, really stupid."

Blue squeezed her tightly. "Where's Graverobber?"

Silence.

"Ah." Blue gently lifted Shilo from her chest, and stared at her makeup-smeared face. "Did you do what I'm thinkin' you did?"

Shilo stared at her hands in embarrassment.

"I thought he'd…like the outfit. Or something." She shuddered with one last, repressed sob. "I've never been kissed before. And I…I wanted him to, I guess."

It was funny; Blue was her friend, first and only. But the girl had experienced things that Shilo had only seen on late night television, or in her own mind. Shilo felt incredibly young, and that only heightened her shame.

"Fuck," Shilo whispered. It made her feel a little better.

Blue chuckled softly and cupped Shilo's chin, raising her face.

"Darlin', you are worth much more than that dirty, smuggling, son of a bitch. Than anyone in this place. So don't worry about it."

And then, to Shilo's immense surprise, Blue kissed her.

* * *

"Where the hell have you been lately?"

Demetri shrugged.

"I've found some different jobs, Roger. Just let me in, will ya? Vials two for one."

The old man grunted, but swung his door open to let Demetri in. The place seemed worse than he remembered, or had it simply been that he hadn't seen it for a week…two weeks? Three days? He was losing track of time, and that bothered him.

"About all I got are some fish sticks and a bag of Raisinets."

Demetri shrugged. He wasn't hungry, but the chocolate sounded good.

"Just the Raisinets. Here."

Roger grunted again, and threw Demetri the box. It fell short and he bent to pick it up, noticing as he did a dead rat in the corner. He all of a sudden felt nauseous for no real reason, and found himself intently examining his customer. The old man's eyes had a jaundiced tint, and his skin looked about ready to slip from the creaking bones. Roger's liver-spotted hand trembled as he poised the needle over his arm. Demetri swallowed, and looked away. When this man with his age, what had he dreamt of? Fame, maybe. Wealth. Love. An escape from this shit hole they'd had the misfortune to be born into. Roger had went to school once, had parents. Maybe siblings. Maybe they were all loving. Maybe they had thrown him out on his ass. Maybe he'd just picked up and left himself.

"I've got to go, Roger."

The man's droopy eyes were closed as he swayed with the drug-induced euphoria, and he didn't seem to notice Demetri leave.

* * *

Shilo lay in the darkness, thankful to have Blue snoring softly beside her. Their earlier kiss had made Shilo feel uncomfortable, but not terribly disgusted, and apparently nothing was awkward for Blue. The girl had just patted Shilo's cheek and left for a few moments, returning with a half empty carton of freezer burned ice-cream and an old Western movie. They had laughed together, calling the other names in exaggerated accents and corny insults. Before the movie was over Blue had opted for sleep; as she had no customers, she wanted to rest.

It was a sobering thought for Shilo- the realization of what her friend had to do, the many nameless men who'd slept in this spot before her. Or not slept. Panted, caught their breath, and left. None of them had taken the time to watch Blue sleep. Shilo rolled over and brushed a dreadlock away from her friend's face. All of these girls were the same unconscious. Broken people. Shilo wondered what Blue was dreaming about. Each night she'd been scared to close her own eyes, because then the nightmares came.

Shilo sighed and settled more comfortably into the bed. Not tonight. She would sleep, but she refused to dream. In the soft darkness Shilo began to plan, until finally exhaustion closed her mind with soft, ancient hands.

* * *

A block away Demetri was rubbing his own tired eyes. He thought fondly of the bordello, and of a semi-warm, partially clean place to sleep. So preoccupied was Demetri that he didn't hear them come. A scratchy burlap sack was pulled over his face. He tripped over someone's feet, fell hard against a brick wall, and slipped into silent unconciousness.


	27. Brave New World

"You are a tool. How does that feel? You are an object of destruction. A deplorable puppet. How does that feel?"

The words were eels behind Demetri's eyes. He groaned and blinked against the light of flickering candles. His head ached, his mouth was thick and foul-tasting, and he was bound hand and foot to a rickety chair. As the scene around him came into focus, he observed an old, badly-lit room; most of its defining features were in shadow. A young man paced in front of his chair, masked and holding a small gun. Only his mouth was visible, and it was pulled up in a small grin.

"Good morning, sunshine. So you've noticed the weapon…nasty things, aren't they? But necessary, in this situation- for my own protection."

The man gesticulated, causing the gun to wave wildly. Demetri was sweating rivulets, stomach heaving. He wiggled his hands and feet against their bindings, but everything was knotted tightly. Intuition told him not to speak. Words, after all, betrayed you. Better to stay quiet.

"You're probably wondering why I've brought you here, scum. You see, we are living in an age of decay. GeneCo flourishes because of our weakness as a people. What causes that weakness? A certain angel of death…a little glass vial we're all familiar with."

The man chuckled, still pacing.

"And who makes this possible? The intricate part of this cycle? Who? Well…you do."

Demetri felt an odd fluttering in his chest. The small breath of something that had always been there, but was too buried under the rubble of his existence to do more than plea every now and then. Squeak pitifully. His throat felt extremely dry, and he was having trouble breathing. Not just from fear of his situation, possible doom. A different fear. A bigger, darker one. Demetri's kidnapper shook his head and stopped walking. When he spoke again it wasn't as mocking as before. More of a courtroom appeal, almost.

"I don't know where you came from. Probably not that far from myself. You got lost somewhere down the road. Maybe you're a degenerate by birth. Maybe not. Maybe you've lain awake nights and thought about a different world. I've done more than thought, my friend. I've planned. Planned to fight. This is a battlefield, as sure as any in our history books. If you want to pick up arms and join my group, make something of the very existence of you and this city, follow the directions you'll find in your pocket. Now…forgive me."

Before Demetri could respond, a syringe was in his neck. There was the sharp prick of a needle, and more darkness. Before he fell into that deep ocean he thought he heard a murmuring voice.

_"How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, that has such people in't!"_

* * *

He'd tracked them there, since seeing the attack in the alley. Demetri was tied to a chair, and a man, a masked man, was gently slipping a needle into his neck. Graverobber felt whistles in his ears and hot lights in his eyes. Chair. Needle. Something familiar. Glad. A memory. Blue flame. Escape.

_Thud thud his heart was pounding him sudden so sudden why this suffocation?_

Graverobber shook his head violently and rubbed his eyes. A snake was in his stomach, spine, and it whispered things. Suddenly everything was slipping away and then he saw the newspapers on the wall clearly- Demetri's situation had distracted him initially. But Graverobber should have been more observant. So many clippings and pictures of…

Glass shattered.

* * *

"How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, that has such people in't!" Riley murmured. He pulled the sedative from the young graverobber's neck and actually patted him gently on the head. There was something about this one he didn't automatically hate. Maybe he'd actually meet with them. There was always the chance…and after all, wasn't that the point? All he could do was try.

Daggers flew at his skin. No, not daggers. The window on the side of the building that hugged the neighboring one…usually it was boarded up. Riley had wanted to air out their headquarters, so the mistake was his. He spun around and brandished the gun, but a weight hit him and he was thrown against the wall. Riley could taste blood in his mouth.

"Who the fuck are you?" a deep voice screamed. A hand struck his face.

"Sto- stop…" he coughed.

And now it wasn't just blood Riley was choking on. It was smoke. He struggled against the hands that held his shoulders. A hulking man was crouched over him, face twisted like that of a beast. The candles had fallen and set the papers on fire. Orange and red cackled evilly around Riley's attacker, and he pushed futilely at the man's chest.

"You don't understand!" he yelled, and was hit again in the mouth.

"But I will!" the man growled, and grabbed Riley around the waist. Beams of rotten, charring wood fell around them, and Riley could feel the shards pricking him through his clothes. The large man grabbed the unconscious graverobber and pushed his way past the burning wreckage. Riley was gagging on smoke now. He couldn't breathe. Everything spun dizzily; the pain, the colors, the heat. Almost gladly he too fell unconscious.

* * *

Shilo was sweeping and chatting with Blue when the front doors of The Glow were thrown open. A violently angry and soot-stained Graverobber came in dragging two prone men behind him. He threw them onto the ground.

"Get a first aid kit or something," he snapped at Blue. She shook her head as she walked away.

"Never a quiet moment…"

Shilo dropped her broom and ran to the bodies. "What happened…who…"

Then she recognized them. One was Demetri, looking almost peaceful. The other was significantly worse off, battered and covered in dry blood. Shilo gasped and dropped to his side. She held her hands over his body, scared to touch him and jar something that could be broken.

"Riley…" She touched his forehead and, smoothing back his hair, looked up angrily at Graverobber.

"What have you done?!"

He nearly reeled back in surprise.

"What have I…you know this…this…he had D tied to a fucking chair."

Shilo only shook her head. "He's not…you don't understand."

"So I've heard."

Blue ran back in and crouched next to Shilo. They exchanged a quick glance. Graverobber noticed the unspoken communication that passed between them, and watched as they began to clean the blood from…Riley? What that this punk's name? And how did Shilo even know him? Why did he have a fucking shrine to her?

Riley stirred on the floor and coughed. Shilo quickly propped his head on her lap and murmured unintelligible words of comfort to him. His eyes opened slowly, one pathetically swollen, and he smiled. Shilo's heart hurt to see the cut on his beautiful lips.

"Surprised…" he whispered, and she laughed. It was almost a sob, so she quickly stopped. She was still smiling, though. How could she not? Riley grabbed her hand weakly and pressed it to his cheek.

Graverobber cleared his throat in disgust, and Shilo saw realization and remembrance fill Riley's eyes. He sat up with difficulty and wrapped an arm around Shilo in protection.

"Stay back…" he croaked, voice still raw from the smoke. Demetri was awake now too and looked on everything with pure confusion. Shilo had never seen Graverobber look so…unpleasant.

"I'm not going to hurt you. Again. Apparently you have a guardian angel, fucker. Now how about both of you explain. Shilo?"

It was Riley's turn to reel back in surprise.

"What exactly is…you two know each other?" He looked around him. "Where are we?"

Shilo swallowed. "The Glow. I…live here. Graverobber saved my life after the opera. He's a friend. So are you, and so is he." She pointed to Demetri, who's mouth was open like a fish out of water. He shook his head.

"This kid kidnapped me! And put a gun in my face! And knocked me out…twice!"

Riley sniffed. "It was necessary."

"Like fuck it was!" Demetri said, stepping forward. He was still woozy from the sedative, though, and quickly fell back down.

"Well damn," he mumbled, and dug around in his pockets for chocolate.

All of a sudden Blue laughed. So hard that she had to clutch her stomach and gasp for breath. The men looked at her in a shock that burdened on horror, but Shilo seemed to understand what was so ridiculous about it all, and joined in. Riley cracked a small smile.

"So what now?"

Demetri munched moodily on a candy bar and looked up at Graverobber.

"An explanation," he spat. The humor hadn't affected him in the least.

"Coffee first," Blue said. She ushered them into the deserted drawing room, helping Demetri along. Shilo walked next to Riley. It was ridiculous, really, but she wasn't feeling particularly bothered anymore. Ever since the meeting in the old Chinese restaurant she'd been thinking of how to introduce everyone to everyone…well, this wouldn't have been her first choice, but it was surely effective. She and Riley sat together on the couch, Demetri dropped into an arm chair, and Graverobber stood stoically near the wall. Riley locked eyes with him, cleared his throat, and began.

"This is a battlefield, as sure as any in our history books…"


	28. Memoria di Rottura

"…after your birthday, of course."

The words slipped through Pavi's ear and out the other. He stared at the blurry wall, feeling like a small goldfish that had been dropped into a pool of syrup on the floor. He could see escape, but couldn't make it there. Everything was heavy, both his limbs and the air. Amber's mouth moved in slow motion, Luigi's pocket knife flipped open, closed, open, like the pattering of butterfly wings…like…his head was thudding and the needles inside it wanted to explode.

"Pavi!"

How did the ceiling get there? When had he fallen? What was that smell? Amber crouched over him, and Pavi swatted her away. He had escaped the syrup. His body felt light, and the air felt different too. Smelt different. He stood shakily.

"Pavi. Pavi, you're sick. Where are you going? Pavi! Luigi, go g…"

He ignored them and continued down the hallway, up the stairs. Inside his bedroom was a closet. Inside that closet was a large wooden chest. In that chest, underneath clothes that no longer fit quite right and wigs that he'd experimented with for a time, half used make-up, was a cardboard box. After a few moments Pavi had dug it out and set it on the bed next to him. It had not been opened for nearly a year.

_Pavi Pavi Pavi_

He lifted the lid, breathed in dust. An old leather photo album first. A small boy in shorts and knee socks with a stern woman behind him, softly rolling hills. One page only, and then a fat man and sad woman and scowling children, and grey grey grey…

_Pavi Pavi Pavi_

The angel.

A smaller box inside. Two plane tickets, and a key.

_Pavi Pavi Pavi_

_ "Paviche! No. I do not wish to speak," Magdalene said through the door. How dare she, he though. This was his home. She was a guest- no. An indentured servant! She had no right._

_ "Open this door-a, Magdalene! Open this door-a!"_

_ There was only silence. Paviche hit the door, once, twice. He realized the irony of this in a sudden burst of pain and lowered his fist. Magdalene's perfect, unblemished face; but lower, the purple finger marks on her arm. He closed his eyes in frustration. Paviche was not to blame, no. She overreacted, as she had been like to do lately. Over nothing. They were only women with no place in society, no purpose. He did not even remember their names, or the events that brought them together. Paviche only felt the lingering warmth of conquest in his blood. Of the beauty that he now had only one way to posses._

_ Except for with Magdalene. She had always been a bird, never something to possess. Until now. Now that he needed to. Now that everytime they made love she seemed to slip farther out of his grasp, fall away like sand. Paviche thought of the eyes she would blankly turn away, the wrist that would lie limp, and he became angry again. With a sudden realization he knew, then. The Zydrate buzzed inside him and seemed to whisper the truth._

She is keeping the beauty for herself.

_Paviche, years later, would never know just how he knocked through the door. Perhaps it was the drug-drenched rage. But he made it in, to find the room empty. Magdalene's balcony doors were open and her curtain blew pitifully in the air, like a lonely spirit. _

_ "Magdalene?" he whispered. There was no answer. Paviche slowly walked forward and pushed aside the curtain. Magdalene stood on the balcony's ledge and stared at sky. Her eyes were bright, almost too bright. Fevered and manic._

_ "Magdalene, come down! Magdalene, please!" Paviche was crying. He tugged at Magdalene's arm, and when she turned her face to him the eyes sparked with recognition. She climbed down, shivering. Paviche wrapped his arms tightly around her body. He expected it to be cold, but she was sweating._

_ "I'm sick, Paviche," she murmured against his shirt. _

_ He swallowed. The fear from a moment earlier had banished the high, and Paviche felt consumed with gilt for everything he'd done lately. What he'd become._

_ "We could-a leave," Paviche said suddenly. "We could-a go to Italy." In his mind he'd already bought the tickets. It was very quiet while he waited for an answer. Magdalene hardly seemed to breath. She pulled away from him slowly and, with closed eyes, touched his face. His borrowed face. Paviche remembered the time she'd first discovered his disfigured features and had kissed him, as if there'd been no different. Magdalene's face was contorted in pain now, though. She pulled her hand away and shuddered, like a cornered animal._

_ "Yes," Magdalene said. "Italy. When?"_

_ "Three-a days," Paviche decided. "Three-a days."_

_ Magdalene nodded, and smiled sadly. "Three days, then. Alright, Paviche. Italy."_

The world blurred again, but not from the drugs. Pavi blinked away tears. What had happened after that? It was all so muddled. Three days later Magdalene was gone, though, without him. Rotti had sent her…somewhere. To some clinic so she could recover. And how long was she gone? Pavi could not remember. That time did not seem to really exist to him. It was one long party, one endless shot of Z. Women and their perfect faces. He shook his head to try and clear it.

There had also, after his surgery gone wrong, been Amber- that nightly glass of wine. And odd feeling traveled up Pavi's back. Not quite a shiver. But a thought. A dangerous thought.


	29. Muffins

"Though it's pretty much a contradiction…you're basically the leader of some group of anarchists who want to bring GeneCo to its filthy knees?"

"Basically," Riley confirmed with a smile. "We've been at it a long time. Supply raids here. Fires there. Though only a small number of the men and women actually stay in the…" he remembered the fire with a pause, and corrected himself, "stayed in the old restaurant, the resistance movement has overtaken most of the underground. What's left," at this his face contorted into a scowl toward Demetri, "are those who aid the enemy."

Graverobber chuckled. This kid talked like some hokey general in an old military film. But despite himself....he was impressed. Even more so that he hadn't heard anything about a "Save Shilo" trend or anti-Co campaign. They were good, obviously. And he could tell from a certain light Riley's eyes shown with that there was a plan somewhere behind them. Maybe it was being formed, or maybe it had existed as a goal for some time. But it was there, and Riley was on fire with the knowledge of it.

"I don't know what you actually think you can do," Demetri spat with disgust. "This thing, this world we live in…all of it is too big for us, for anyone to change. They'll find you eventually, all of you, and take you out back – shoot you like a bad dog with rabies."

Riley leaned forward and smiled, almost evilly. "You shoot an animal with rabies out of _fear._"

Graverobber laughed, much to Demetri's obvious ire. "What else have we got to do? Keep on with whatever we've been keeping on with, sure. But we're all gonna die some time." He shrugged. "So what now? You've got some new comrades, or whatever you call your people…"

"…speak for yourself," Demetri mumbled, ignored.

"…but how does it all fit together? Especially with your headquarters burned to the ground." Graverobber hadn't apologized for that, and didn't intend to. If Riley considered this whole damn city a field of battle, then he had to understand casualties happened.

"There's another place we meet at sometimes. Far less homey, but just as abandoned. The address is in his pocket." Riley nodded at Demetri, and in the same motion yawned.

"Tomorrow," Shilo said decidedly. She'd been watching everything with concern and wanted the lot of them to get some much-needed rest. But Riley shook his head.

"When everyone hears about the fire they'll want to know what's happening, and immediately go to our back-up location. I need to be there. And so do you," he said happily.

Shilo shook her head in silence, for no real reason. Maybe just a general wonder at it all. "A small nap, at least? An hour."

Riley smiled at her tenderly. "All right. Sure. I need to be at my best." He stretched.

"So I guess we'll all have a sleepover in the living room," Demetri observed sarcastically. "I'll get the nail-polish."

"God Demetri, just shut up for once," Shilo said. But she was smiling. Demetri glared at her and made a motion of zipping his lips. He settled more comfortably in the arm chair and yawned himself.

"Fine. But not because you told me to."

Shilo laughed, secretly marveling at the fact that she could.

* * *

Sleep had been a fickle mistress. Demetri tried to grasp her, pull that restful shroud over him and gently settle. But he tosses and turned, was pulled between vivid, unsettling dreams. Lily with unnaturally dark hair screaming an orgasm into his ear, that scream changing to a different one, a violent one that reached Demetri even in the warm, safe place he was curled in. Rough hands yanked him and that bright world darkened into blue flames that closed in, peeling away his flesh with their heat. The scenes continued on, peppered with moments of vague wakefulness, until finally Demetri's eyes opened cautiously to a dim, quiet morning.

The sun leaking around the room's curtains put him in mind of candlelight. Demetri held his sweaty brow in his hands, letting the sound of steady breathing calm him. After a few moments he realized he room smelled faintly of muffins.

Demetri stood and picked his way around the sleeping figures. Graverobber was sitting up in the chair, looking like some strange, hulking guardian even with closed eyes. Someone had covered him with a patched quilt- probably Shilo- and for some reason this made Demetri sad. He let his nose lead him into the kitchen.

"Good morning!" Shilo said happily. She was perched on the counter, sewing something green and lumpy.

"Mornin'. Where's Scarlett?"

"She's still asleep, of course- it's only seven."

Demetri took a seat at the scarred table.

"Wow. I can't remember the last time I've been up this early." The last few syllables faded into a yawn, and Shilo hopped down from the counter, pushing her sewing aside.

"Luckily for you're the coffee should be about done…you look awful."

"Gee, thanks. You're a ray of sunshine, aren't you? No wonder people around here don't wake up this early…"

Shilo threw a spoon, which he caught.

"Don't complain. I made muffins."

Demetri began to dump spoonfuls of sugar into the rich, dark coffee. The smell began to clear the cobwebs of sleep, and he sighed, watching Shilo turn her own coffee a delicate khaki. Maybe no one else would wake up. Maybe he'd stay in this kitchen until his hands wrinkled and bloomed liver spots. Demetri froze, at least mentally. Why that urge? Things were peaceful at this moment. Things were seldom peaceful.

"I wanted to make bacon, but there isn't any. Or pancakes- those are Riley's favorite."

"I can make a mean omelet," Demetri purposefully ignored Shilo's mention of that name. She didn't seem to notice and sat down across from Demetri. It amused him how she brightened at the topic of food.

"I haven't had one since my…for a while. Can you cook anything else?"

"Mostly greasy diner food. I worked at one for a few years."

"I guess you didn't keep the day job."

Demetri laughed mirthlessly. "No, I didn't. I never have been able to get the hang of baking though. It's like…I can eat my weight in chocolate but my brain blocks the actual assembly process."

Shilo cracked a smile behind her coffee.

"When's your birthday?"

Demetri clenched his hand under the table. Not wanting to admit that he couldn't remember it, he picked a date at random.

"April 4th."

"Well. We'll just have to make you a cake then."

Demetri felt that descending cloud of sadness. He pushed it away with a quick and hearty shove.

"No thanks. You'd probably poison it."

Before Shilo could retort the oven beeped. She took out the muffin pans in silence, and Demetri wondered if he'd actually hurt her feelings. Shilo emptied the muffins into a bowl, extracting two before covering it.

"Here," she whispered.

Demetri was momentarily speechless. What had he said so different, or so wrong?

"Let's play cards," he said, taking a pack from one of his inside pockets.

"You carry that around with you?"

"Yeah. I like to have something to do with my hands."

Anyone else would probably have cracked a joke at that one, but Shilo just curiously watched him shuffle and deal the cards. They played gin rummy in a silence that slowly lessened in its awkwardness, and Demetri finished three muffins. They were dry, but very sweet.


	30. In a Week

The building was large and ugly. Half had been completely destroyed in some long-ago fire, only serving to remind everyone of why they were there in the first place. Riley talked softly to Shilo as they walked down the mostly abandoned street, Demetri trailing behind.

"It was an orphanage once. Burnt down maybe five years ago. We ran out most of the squatters, but when the occasional one wanders in we let them. They're harmless for the most part, and after all…what are we, anyway? And help is help. They don't have anyone."

Shilo murmured in agreement. Normally Demetri would have sighed or rolled his eyes, but he was too busy eyeing the squat and dilapidated structure with trepidation, a sick feeling in his stomach. He never passed this way if he could avoid it.

"Anyway, it's a pretty good set up for emergencies," Riley continued, leading them up an uneven walkway. "We've got stores of canned goods, fuel sources…there are still a bunch of the old rooms upstairs, too. We use them for fires."

Riley opened the door with some force, and they slipped inside. A blue scarf hanging on a peg was the only spot of color visible in the dark hallway.

"Good- Mikey and Jay are here," he said happily. "Sleeping, probably. We'll have to wake 'em up…"

Riley continued to mumble to himself, pulling boxes out from under strategically placed rubble. He paused for a moment, then whistled sharply. A few seconds later it was returned by two sharper ones, followed closely by cautious footsteps. Shilo was taken aback to see the twins from the old Chinese restaurant treading down the stairs- a gun in one's hand, crowbar in the other's.

"Oh, okay," the one with a mole on his cheek, who Shilo remembered as Mikey, said. He lowered his gun and caught sight of her at the same time as Jay, and they both bounded down the stairs in order to abscond her with tight embraces.

"We left a blue scarf at the old place," Jay said. "For the others."

"We've been worried as hell, chief."

Riley shrugged helplessly. "I hoped you wouldn't be. Obviously you remember Shilo, and this is her friend Demetri."

Demetri nodded a silent greeting at the twins, not missing Riley's omission of the word "our". It didn't bother him that much, especially since Shilo pressed his arm gently in consolation. But that didn't register too strongly either. He was overcome by the archaically designed hallway, a staircase built with a regality that was so ironic to its setting that it became corny, even unpleasant. The rooms and doors that curved in and out of the hallway did so in the recesses of his memory, too. Demetri began to tremble. He needed a distraction, and quick- maybe a quick, clean hit of Z? Luckily Riley was not the type to waste time or stay idle for long. He was already urging them into actions.

"We have to make this place fit for a permanent residence," he said. "It's freezing, too. Mikey, Jay- find a way to get in contact with Big and see what he knows about…the content of our last meeting."

"What can I do?" Shilo asked, practically bouncing.

"We can…you can help me clean up some," Riley said with a smile. He nodded towards Demetri. "Can you go upstairs and grab a stack or two of files? We need to make a small fire."

Demetri saluted, ironically he hoped, and ran up the stairs. Housework. Not the kind of action he had in mind. If he was street peddler turned vigilante, so be it, but he wanted an adventure in the bargain. Maybe a cool costume, too. And, more important than spandex, a chance to prove himself.

"To myself," he muttered. The words rang eerily in the empty hallway, and Demetri shuddered. The files were kept in an old dormitory, stacked on the rusted frames of beds whose mattresses had long since been taken, burned, rotted away, maybe even sold or bartered. Demetri flicked twitchily through his pockets and pulled out a hunk of chocolate. It was the remains of something bigger and looked like a rock. He bit off a piece and sucked on it nervously before approaching a box of files. Faded dates and names jumped out at him, stingingly. Demetri had never been so terrified in his life.

* * *

"Who's Big?" Shilo asked, clearing away hunks of old wood. Demetri had run out the door a few minutes earlier in a hurry about something or other. Shilo was used to his various oddities, but Riley's eyes were still narrowed in suspicion.

"He's an informant," Riley said, his expression softening when it fell on Shilo. She felt a curious tingle move down her spine, and smiled.

"I wish I could tell you more, but I just can't. Not to anyone, but especially not to you. Some things are too dangerous Shi." He dropped a dirty cloth on a nearby table and wiped his hands on his shirt. "I can't let anything happen to you."

Shilo stood very, very still as Riley pressed his hands gently on either side of her face. She had never felt so needed, so important. No, once before…

A flashback came to her swiftly, so much quicker than the time it took for Riley's scent to surround her and his lips, the part of him she had noticed first at the nightclub, to draw close. It was a memory from her early childhood- her father coming in her room with a tray of medicine and his eyes red from crying in the hall.

_Poor Daddy, _Shilo had thought. She'd reached out her arms to him and, as he cupped his hands around her face as a smile lit up his. _Thank God for you, Shi. Thank God. _

Riley's heart thudded against Shilo's and she tasted the warmth of his mouth, warmer tears spilling from her eyes like little pieces of Nathan Wallace. She wrapped her arms around Riley's back and clung to his shirt tightly. Without the solidity of his shoulders she would fall, but into what? Into what darkness? It was over too quickly and Shilo was surprised and grateful to still be on her feet. She loosened her grip and let her arms hang looser around Riley. He smiled gently and wiped the tears from her cheeks, the pressed his finger tips against her lips.

"I'm glad that was mine," he whispered, pulling her against him, nuzzling her head with his chin. Shilo sighed gratefully, but couldn't stop herself from thinking, _Wasn't it _mine_?_

* * *

Demetri collapsed on the side of the building and curled into the fetal position, the old file tight against his chest. His face was scrunched up against tears he hadn't even known his body still remembered how to make. All he had to do was open it. How hard was that? Demetri, who'd slayed lions! Okay, maybe not lions. But he'd been through a hell of a lot worse than a few measly sheets of paper. Measly…paper…

"Look what the cat dragged in," a voice hissed against his face. Demetri was yanked violently up to his feet. His immediate thought was of Graverobber, but one look at the scarred face contorted in ugly anger told him otherwise.

"How did you find…"

"That is irreverent," Mr. Smith spat. He was thinner than before, Demetri suddenly realized, and the tremors shaking his hands weren't from only anger. He was starved for something. Food? Drugs? Whatever it was, the hunger inside him seemed insatiable. It was betrayed by the feverish light in his eyes. Demetri was more frightened of this desperation than he had been of the calculated calm of before.

"When you leave here there will be a slip of paper in your pocket. On it, an address. You'll be there at ten o'clock a week from today, and the Graverobber will be with you. I'm tired of waiting."

Something stirred inside of Demetri's chest, something hot and mighty. He cleared his throat and said, "I'll bring you your money back. I don't want…I'm leaving the city. I can't do this anymore. So no deal."

Mr. Smith smiled slowly, baring his yellow teeth. The hand gripping Demetri's collar tightened and pressed as a fist against his throat. Demetri gasped for air against the pain, stiffening as he did- something hard and cold was under his layers of clothes, angled at his heart.

"When you make deals with the devil…" he whispered, "you don't get second chances."

The knife broke flesh but Demetri hardly felt it. He was trapped by Mr. Smith's hunger, more so than the man's twisted hand or the wall underneath his back. Demetri felt the bricks stab into his scalp, felt the heat of Mr. Smith's rancid breath. But all he saw was darkness, and all he felt was the acidic disappointment burning his throat. Defeat nipped at his heels. The hunger…

"A week, boy," Mr. Smith said. "Don't even let the idea of running enter that filthy skull of yours. I've found you once. Don't doubt that I can do it again if necessary. A week."

"Yes…" Demetri breathed, not even sure if the words had left his dry lips. The file in his hand was damp, hung limp at his leg. Demetri lowered his eyes, and Mr. Smith let him go. When Demetri looked up again the man was gone. He pressed his hand against the cut on his chest and then brought it level to his eyes. It was stained with blood.


	31. Souvenirs

**This is the longest addition I've written in some time, I believe. That scene at the end was something I've been waiting to share since...oh, part ten? It's been so long that I had to spiffy up the quality. I'm not wholy satisfied, but hopefully you folks will be! Thank you for being patient with me. I'm going to try and wrap this up before 2010 does, so try and be patient a little longer. :) Excuse my many spelling/grammatical errors. I'm sure they're in abundance. All my love, folks. Any suggestions? Guesses? Let me know! And tell your friends. ;D**

Shilo collapsed on the sofa in exhaustion. A mere twenty hours had gone by, but it may as well have been twenty years. How many hands had she shaken? Crammed in crowded basements and smoky shops, how many strangers had embraced her? How many musicians, artists, poets had cried her name? Until now she hadn't full understood what Riley meant by a movement. Now that she did the world should have been bright and full of life, as it was for him. But Shilo only felt tired, and pressed down by the gloom outside. Fall was fast approaching and the sky was darker than usual. Darker than Shilo ever remembered it. But then, when had she spent so much time under it?

Demetri hadn't come back yet.

Shilo groaned and closed her eyes. Graverobber trusted him. She even trusted him, for some reason. So where was he? She thought he'd turned over a new leaf, if such a contrived term could applied to someone such as he. Demetri was on their side. But Riley didn't trust him, and Riley was such a judge of character…

"I should be slaughtered," a voice whispered, and Shilo opened her eyes. Riley was standing over her with a cup of tea in his hands. She smiled and curled her legs up so he could join her on the sofa. Riley handed her the tea, kissed her. Shilo inwardly yelled with happiness.

"And why is that?" she asked, sipping the tea. It was warm and swimming with honey.

"I haven't given you a moments rest. I've been completely selfish."

Shilo shook her head. "Are you kidding? I didn't know all these people existed who…who cared. And it's just amazing to see!" The warm tea and the hot feeling of justice mixed in her stomach and made her feel fiery, just as she'd wanted to only a moment earlier. Riley laughed at the excited look on her face.

"Really!" Shilo exclaimed. "I could just…pick up arms right now and…and march."

She sighed happily and took another sip of tea, clips from old war movies flashing through her mind. Riley laughed again and grabbed her free hand.

"Hold on, soldier. We're not going to be charging the castle any time soon. We may be in a war, but right now it's most important to win enough battles and gain strength…and anyway," Riley added casually as Shilo nodded, "I wouldn't be having you in the middle of anything like that. Are you kidding me? Let you get hurt?" Riley groaned. "It's bad enough that I'm depriving you of sleep."

Shilo knitted her eyebrows together. "Then how exactly am I _helping, _Riley?"

"None of this is possible without you, sweetheart," he said, and kissed her again. Shilo was practically awed by the endearment. And Riley was right of course, in a way. What did she know about violence and espionage and whatnot? Not much. But she would learn, and she'd be ready when the time came. So for the moment Shilo only smiled and nodded.

"Now!" Riley clasped his hands together, suddenly all business. "I need to speak with your friend the Graverobber. I know more of his kind exist- that fact has been proven in the form of a certain pasty delinquent- but where the hell are they? We could use allies in the underground. Do you know where he is?"

Shilo shrugged. "It's night, so he's probably working…"

Riley frowned.

"Or maybe he's here!" Shilo quickly added. Riley liked to think that everyone, once they knew of the cause, would be filled with the same righteous morality as he. Shilo knew that wasn't quite the case. She wanted to find Graverobber as well. Though she'd only just begun to admit it to herself, she missed him. She missed the feel of soil in her hands and his approving smile.

"I'll go and look," Shilo said, beginning to stand. Riley grabbed her by the waist and she fell onto his lap with a gasp and laugh.

"I thought we decided you needed a nap, madam?"

Heart pounding with the ferocity of her joy in being able to do so, Shilo grabbed Riley by the neck and kissed him passionately. She was inwardly shocked. It was the least chaste thing they had shared. When the kiss ended some moments later Riley's chest was heaving against hers, and his gaze was steadily glued to her face.

"I've got more stamina then you'd think," Shilo whispered, a surprised blush heating her cheeks. _Wanton flirting, where have you been all my life_, she thought; and _who is Shilo Wallace now?_

Riley chuckled breathily. "Prove it," he whispered. Shilo stared at him for a moment in the quiet silence of the living room. Footsteps from upstairs and clattering in the nearby kitchen were the only accompanying sounds to their own little sighs. The single lamp made Riley look almost golden, and it seemed appropriate. His nose cast a shadow on his cheek and Shilo ran a finger there, down to his chin. It was unbelievable that she could touch this man, caress his skin like she'd only dared to do in dark, midnight dreams. Passion was something she'd hidden well, but now it was bubbling to the surface violently, imploringly. She touched his lip, grazing the ring there. Riley opened his mouth and closed it again around her finger. Shilo could feel his hard, straight teeth, the hot tongue. Riley bit her finger lightly, and she did the same to her lip.

"Riley…" she whispered, wanting to say something. But what? _You're the only person I've ever been this close to, like this. I want to do so much, but don't know what those things even are. I want you to teach me but don't know how to stop being afraid of it._

Shilo adjusted herself so that she was straddling Riley. He let go of her finger and mover to her neck. Shilo shivered, amazed that anything could feel so…utterly real and alive. She'd already dropped the coat of her "Jack" guise, slipped off the heavy boots, shed the scarf and vest. Riley's hands expertly separated the buttons of her shirt and his lips grazed, sucked, and nipped at her neck. Once finished unfastening the shirt they moved to touch the bare flesh beneath. Shilo went rigid, overcome by the blissful feeling of calloused fingers moving gently where hands had never moved before. With a movement that was almost wild Shilo pulled Riley's face back up to meet her own and practically attacked his lips. Those beautiful lips! Her moans were inaudible and Shilo was glad for that. She didn't want to sound foolish. And, though it was quite obvious, she didn't want Riley to realize how much she wanted him, all of him.

After what felt like hours of mouth, body…Shilo pulled away. Her head was spinning, but a fear nagged at the back of her mind that someone would walk in and see them.

"Not here," she said sadly, and Riley's exhausted-looking face broke into an effervescent smile.

"Of course not," he said happily, and pulled Shilo against him in the customary bone-crushing embrace. "Somewhere better," he said. Shilo wasn't quite sure what he was so happy about, but his body warm. It was perfect. It fit against hers so well. She wouldn't question it; she didn't care.

"I'll go look for Graverobber now," Shilo said grudgingly. Her need to see him had been usurped by a libido-fueled cloud, but she knew once it cleared completely she'd want to find him again. So she stood, arranged her disguise as before, kissed Riley once at the corner of his mouth, and slowly left the room. When Shilo closed the parlor door her pulse was still racing furiously. She remembered suddenly her intoxicated passes at Graverobber and blushed again. But the memory wasn't unpleasant, and Shilo felt guilty at the stirrings she felt, the same ones that had taken hold of her on Riley's lap. With decided difficulty Shilo pushed away the memory of Graverobber's warm chest. After all, when she found him again she wanted to actually be capable of meeting his eyes.

* * *

The air was fresh.

Fresh with filth, with decay, with lies and murder and danger and bodies. Graverobber stretched like a contented cat as his boots fell heavily on the cracked pavement. He hadn't felt like himself in weeks. This was him, though; this was his element. All the recent events that made him do uncomfortable things like _look inward_ vanished, and it was only him in existence, and the night, and his destination. Sneaky rodents of humanity flitted around him. Some were oblivious, others took him in with sly recognition. He didn't meet anyone's eye. Why bother? The graveyard was near. It wasn't even the dead of night yet, only the cusp. Yet Graverobber felt no need to hide. In fact, a nice game of tag with the GeneCops would be a nice bit of refreshing exercising.

GeneCops made Graverobber think of Shilo again, and frown. He was worried about her. Okay, so he was _always_ worried about her, but even Blue hadn't spoken to her in days. She was running around with that Riley kid, being Queen of the Runaways. Graverobber liked the little troublemaker. He was someone who actually had a chance of changing things, it seemed, and Graverobber hadn't seen that…ever. Maybe one. But those days were long gone. Still, there was something about Riley that made him uncomfortable, even apprehensive. It was as if the kid had some much belief in his cause that it blinded him to the reality of the situation, to the actual danger of things. He had the attitude of an urban Peter Pan, playing at war with the pirates. It was one big game. Riley had a happy, childlike glint in his eyes when discussing plans. It was an ignorant naivety, and Graverobber was concerned. Now Shilo was stuck in the midst of the whole ordeal, and there was no way he could gracefully extract her. Graverobber snorted to himself. Grace wasn't something he'd had to worry about much before.

The graveyard was the same was ever; a welcome site. Graverobber got down to business with zeal- _you should love your work_, he thought with a chuckle. The cameras situated on the mausoleums blinked with warning. Graverobber happily flipped each one off in turn. He was in a merry mood, and finished his harvesting in record time. Why, it was only midnight! Graverobber made an exaggerated show of reclining on one of the flat tombs, in plain view of a security camera. He winked at the little thing and blew a kiss. Soon after the expected alarms went off, the obnoxious recording playing a loop. Graverobber hopped from his post as a series of shouts and running sounds echoed around the corner. He began singing loudly, an Irish song he remembered from childhood that popped in his head unbidden.

_While the moon her watch is keeping _

_All through the night _

_While the weary world is sleeping _

_All through the night _

_O'er thy spirit gently stealing _

_Visions of delight revealing _

_Breathes a pure and holy feeling _

_All through the night _

He sang heartily to his audience in a deep, almost operatic baritone. The growls of frustrations as he evaded their every move were like the sweetest nectar to him. Graverobber picked up a rock and threw- not aiming to injure, but to annoy. It hit one GeneCop in the arm. Graverobber laughed, and the man snarled.

_Though I roam a minstrel lonely _

_All through the night _

_My true harp shall praise sing only _

_All through the night _

_Love's young dream, alas, is over _

_Yet my strains of love shall hover _

_Near the presence of my lover _

_All through the night _

Graverobber's voice faltered for a moment. One, two, three, four, five, six…where was the seventh? He knew there had been seven GeneCops, at least upon their loud entrance. Graverobber climbed onto a gravestone and scanned the alleyways that wormed away from the churchyard like a spider's intricate webbing. At the foot of one was a mask, and a glove. The chase was dying down; Graverobber had stopped, and so the GeneCops had time to calm and begin to close in. Slightly thrown off but still unconcerned Graverobber took up his song again.

_Hark, a solemn bell is ringing _

_Clear through the night _

_Thou, my love, art heavenward winging _

_Home through the night _

Graverobber ran about the stones, throwing rocks and clumps of dirt behind him. A scream rent the night, and then another of a varying pitch. Heart thudding from exertion and now foreboding, he slipped behind a tomb and listened. Yes, from the alley where the mask and glove had fallen.

_Earthly dust from off thee shaken _

_Soul immortal shalt thou awaken _

Graverobber crawled forward. More screams- defiantly women's, probably at least two. He eyed the alley with trepidation, squinting into a darkness that seemed unusually thick. Yes, three figures were there. The large GeneCop was holding a little whore against the wall, thrusting against her, while a slighter one struggled at his arm holding her by the hair. Graverobber snarled angrily. He recognized the small one from The Glow. A blonde girl, Lily. He was far from the alley entrance, but not too far. He crouched and pulled a knife from his pocked. Before he could throw footsteps crunched behind him. Graverobber turned his head swiftly. But the loud, violent rip of a bullet through the air blinded him of all else. Pain rent into the nerves of his arm, setting them on fire.

_With thy last dim journey taken _

_Home through the night_

He whispered to himself almost madly, clenching his teeth against the agony. But it abated. Graverobber realized he'd had worse and blindly threw the knife toward his attacker. He heard it impact with a thud. The moisture in his eyes fell away just as one of the GeneCops dropped, the knife in his neck. Holding the bleeding wound against him Graverobber grabbed the knife and ran into the alley. By now the raping scum had noticed him and had thrown one of his victims into the wall. She lay crumpled like a doll in a growing pool of blood. Lily was clutched against his chest, a knife at her throat. Another gun was pointed at Graverobber, even with the bloody knife _he _held.

"Don't move," the man snarled. "This is the end of the road for you. Amber Sweet will have your head mounted outside her door."

Graverobber laughed. "Which one?" He threw the knife. Lily screamed, but it glanced off the GeneCop's cheek. Blood, almost black, ran from his face onto Lily's.

"Mistake," the man hissed. Graverobber lunged, rolled. The ground seemed covered with spikes, for the action brought out a sharp, almost debilitating pain in his arm. Graverobber was faint for a minute, and hesitated to stand. How much blood was he losing? Another cry rang in his ears, but this time a male's. And it was angry. Graverobber's vision was dimming but he heard a strangled yell, a heavy thud, Lily's exclamation of joy. Hands grabbed under his arms, voices blurred into intelligible buzzing, and Graverobber's face hit the alley's bloody floor.

* * *

Shilo passed through the kitchen, but it was empty; someone had left mid-wash, and dishes stood in a precarious stack. Guilt pluck at Shilo's sleeve. She'd abandoned her housekeeping duties lately.

Out of the kitchen and down the hall, there was only the sounds of wild romping Shilo had gotten accustomed to. This made her think of Blue, and more guilt paled her. How was her friend? Shilo didn't know, and that made her sad. She was determined that, at the first opportunity, they'd talk. Shilo stopped at the basement door. With an odd feeling in her stomach she opened it, padded softly down the steps in her bare feet, and knocked on the second door. Silence pervaded the dank air and made her feel uncomfortable just standing in the dark. She went into the basement, lit as usual with a dim blue glow- and completely empty. Even the bed looked abandoned. It was still made from the last time Shilo had come down. She wandered to the table holding the vials of Zydrate, noticing for the first time it was propped against all those old boxes. She sighed, wondering how Graverobber would look in a normal, furnished bedroom. She chuckled at the idea of him in the bear-paw slippers her father had owned, then quickly banishing Nathan's face almost as soon as the image entered her mind. It would do no good to think of him now.

One of the vials on the table seemed dimmer and Shilo picked it up for examination, accidently knocking over another with her elbow in the process. She reached out quickly to catch it, but instead it hit the ground- not breaking, but rolling away behind the boxes.

Shilo groaned in annoyance and began pushing the boxes aside, following the Zydrate glow. The cardboard smelled like wet and rot, making her grimace. She saw it in the corner, casting its eerie blue light over the slick concrete walls. Shilo bent down to pick the vial up when something caught her eye; a box that was different than the rest. It was like a shoebox, but bigger in size. She knelt next to it, curious. The box was battered and old, but not as damaged as the others around it. Shilo picked up the Zydrate vial and held it like a flashlight. In faded, messy letters someone had written "Marcus".

* * *

_Graverobber! Wake the hell up. _

My name is Graverobber.

_He's not moving, and we can't fucking move him anymore. It's like a dead horse._

_Don't say that! A live horse._

My name is Graverobber.

_Fine, a live horse. Shut up and keep pulling._

_I am, I am. Jesus. My leg hurts._

My name is Graverobber.

_He's moving! He's moving, shit. Put him down._

"Graverobber…" he coughed once, then twice, and then he was gagging. The colored swirls of unconsciousness cleared like cigarette smoke. Graverobber opened his eyes. Two other pairs met his, one wide with fear, the other narrowed in concern.

"Fucking kid…" Graverobber mumbled, sitting up. Demetri grinned, and Lily threw her arms around Graverobber's neck. He was too exhausted to push her away. He felt sick, disgusted, just…not right. Nothing was right. Where was he? Who was he?

"We've been trying to drag you all the way back to- where are you going? Graverobber, your arm! Where…."

Graverobber shoved away the arms that grabbed at his back like so many hungry children, beggars, vermin. Vermin? He shook his head; it ached terribly. The alley walls flew past him as his tread picked up speed. Unconsciously he was heading back to The Glow, though he didn't know if that was the best place to be. Regardless, he needed rest. His body might have woken up on the outside, but something was wrong in his head, still asleep. Trembling, he slipped in the back way and headed for the basement.

* * *

_Marcus? _Shilo silently repeated the name to herself- she'd never heard him mentioned before. She lifted the lid and began to explore the box. Inside was a pair of faded jeans and a plaid, button up shirt. They were so soft to the touch that Shilo couldn't help lifting them to her face and breathing in. The smell wasn't old and dusty, but rather comfortable. Something was there, something familiar- cinnamon, sweat, and upturned earth. She couldn't place it, and set the clothing aside. Underneath was a bent tobacco tin. Shilo looked inside and saw a large collection of buttons, and a stack of movie tickets so faded that she couldn't even read the titles. She continued to look through the box and found a rusty syringe, a string of pearls, a bone that looked creepily like a finger, a leather bracelet, an envelope, and a brown journal. Shilo's heart began to thump curiously. She picked up the journal, touching the smooth leather. It gave her a curious shiver. _Should I read it?_ Shilo didn't know this Marcus person, but still…was it right to invade his privacy, read his secret thoughts? Something was compelling her to do it, even though she knew it was probably wrong. Something gripped her, stayed her hand. Fear? A cold premonition? The journal was very solid in her hands, welcoming, so Shilo shook away her foreboding and opened the book. A picture fluttered out. Shilo picked it up gingerly and held it near her face-a snapshot of two boys. The color was almost completely drained, but Shilo could still see that one was about ten, the other maybe six or seven. Their looks were so similar that they were obviously brothers. The older boy had his arm protectively around the younger one's shoulder. He was smiling crookedly, so confident for a child. The other boy was grinning broadly at the camera, seemingly thrilled to even be in the picture. Farmland stretched out behind them like a sea.

Shilo set the picture in her lap and flipped to the back of the book, the last entry. It was dated November 2nd, fifteen years earlier.

_I was so nervous, despite myself, despite all I'd seen. I told Jessup my fears. He wanted to go to the city so bad. But I was scared. I didn't know why. Maybe because it was something so much bigger than myself. And I'd heard so many things. But Jessup only laughed. He laughed and said I was pathetic. That I was weak and a child. That I wasn't a real man and probably never would be. Jessup told me that I was worthless. And he laughed. I think that's what got me. It was like pressing a button in my head. Those words and that cold laugh were all so familiar. All of a sudden Jessup wasn't Jessup anymore. He was that other person, the one I'd fought so hard to forget even existed. And I just snapped, I lost it. I didn't mean too. Maybe I did. I don't know. But I know the syringe went into Jessup's neck like it was butter. Was that the adrenaline? I don't know. But there was so much blood. It was all over Jessup and all over my clothes and seeping through my fingers. His eyes were terrifying. They were angry and cold, but they also seemed to say "I'm right and you know it. You and I have both known it all along. You're nothing. You're worse than nothing. You're as bad as I am." I think that was the worst part. Not that I killed my only friend and I'm alone now. I think the worst part is that I know deep down he's right. I'm a worthless horrible person. Do I regret it? I did. I cried and I cried like a little bitch as I took the Zydrate that would pay my way into the city from Jessup's nose. It was so slippery, that vial, with the blood all over my fingers. I almost dropped it twice, and I was crying so hard I couldn't see. But do I regret it? Yes. But also no. Because maybe Jessup deserved it. He was bad too. After what he did to that little girl he deserved it. Even I wouldn't do that. But maybe I would. A piece of shit like me, who knows what I'd do? But I don't think I'd do that. Not that it matters. Jessup's dead now and I'm alone and nothing matters. I didn't need him and I don't need anyone now, not ever. Jessup might be right about a lot of things but he's wrong about something: I'm not weak. And I don't need him or anyone else and especially not that voice in my head that's screaming. I'd kill it too if I could. I think I am. I think its working._

_God, there was so much blood. _

Shilo's hands were shaking so badly that the journal fell into her lap, fluttering to an empty page. Her heart was thumping with a violent, painful intensity and it took her a minute to realize tears were burning her cheeks. Who was this Marcus? Why did his story hurt her so much? It was like a bullet in her heart, reading those words. She traced her fingers over the pages as the basement door flew open. Shilo jumped and whipped her head around as a growl vibrated against her skull.

"What did you find?" The voice was calm. Deadly so. Graverobber stood in the doorway, the light framing him like some hellish angel, a dark demon of otherworldly anger.

"Just a book…journal…I…for Marcus…"

Shilo was yelling nearly unintelligible defenses through the tears that still came. She was more afraid of Graverobber than she'd ever been. Was it even him? His eyes were not the same. They were veiny, pupils dilated. No spark, not humor, no cockiness or even anger. It was more than anger. It was the dumb, mad rage of a beast. Even his body seemed animal like, covered in dirt and blood and hunched over like he was going to swing. Shilo dropped the box and stood as the souvenirs of someone's past rolled about her feet.

"Get out," Graverobber snarled. Shilo was prostrate with fear. When she didn't move, Graverobber stood straight and screamed.

"GET OUT!"

His arm flew, knocking down boxes. Vials of Zydrate fell at Shilo in a shower. Ducking around the monstrous form, she ran.


	32. Memoria di Ciechi

**The end looms ahead, dear readers, and I am very excited to unviel it all. How much longer? I cannot say. But I'm happy with what I've got planned. Thank you all. 3**

* * *

Pavi slipped silently into the dark lab. Strange lights flickered occasionally, making the shadows dance. They seemed to call to him, taunted with trembling fingers. Pavi swallowed his fear- silly fear really, for who haunted this room but scientists? He stood a little straighter and walked past machines and cabinets he didn't know the purpose of. One shadow stood out from the rest against the far wall. It belonged to no specter, but a man.

"Turn around-a," Pavi said loudly, and the man jumped. He complied, a strange glint lighting in wide, watery eyes.

"Mr…Mr. Largo…" the man stammered, grasping weakly at the table. A vial fell, and he cringed.

Pavi walked up to the scientist and grasped him by the collar.

"My-a father employed you. He-a paid your checks. But Rotti Largo is-a dead. So I own-a you."

The man nodded, glasses bouncing. Pavi continued.

"So you will answer my-a questions." He leaned in close, the scientist's musty sweat filling up his nose. The knife slipped easily from his sleeve, and he pressed it against the scientist's lab coat. The man's fat shook with jiggling tremors. Pavi smiled so widely that he could feel his mask of skin stretching taunt. How frightful he must look in the shaking blue light. Blue light…

Grasping the man even tighter, Pavi swung his head to the left. His blood chilled at the sight.

The cages. The bodies. The needles and vials of blue, tubs of blue.

_Ah. So very clever._

Fireworks went off in his mind, and the pieces inched closer together…

Pavi hurriedly shook away the revulsion of the new realizations as well as he could. There would be time to digest that later. He jabbed the man with the knife- not enough to seriously injure. Just to hurt. The scientist's face was visibly wet and clammy. Pavi pressed his lips to the man's ear and whispered.

Blood was drawn, just enough to dry the scientist's nervous sobs and elicit answers. Pavi listened, nodded. Of course. Of course. He pulled away, satisfied, and let the scientist fall to the ground in a whimpering pile. What garbage! But Pavi found himself pitying the man. Once you sold your soul to the Largos, you never got it back.

"This is between us-a," Pavi said, but the scientist was past responding. Pavi cleaned his knife on the man's lab coat and eyed the lab. It was so big, but the row of shelves the scientist had indicated were obvious from where he stood. Pavi walked forward with less trepidation then he would have expected, being he was approaching his very life. He chose the third bottle and held it in his hand. It was about the size of a soda and half full of a thin black serum. The truth will set you free, Pavi had once read. He repeated the phrase to himself as he walked back into the bright hallway. Free yes, but the cracks in his heart that had been holding onto each other haphazardly were shifting again. Everything was breaking down. He had been Sampson, blind and bald and trapped. But miraculously his hair had grown and now the pillars were shaking under his chains.

_The truth…_

_Free…_

_"Let me go, Mr. Largo, you are out of your right mind!" Magdalene screamed. She yanked her wrists from Paviche's grasp, the momentum throwing her against the wall. In the corner her three attendants cowered, holding her gown in front of them like a shield. _

_Pavi Largo, since Blind Mag's stint abroad, had become even more infamous for his crimes. The violence was not in his voice but the intensity of his eyes. The fear came from his oozing sensuality. The servants and everyone else in the city knew the extent of his drug use. "He's a fool," they'd whisper, remembering the way he tittered like a bird in public, blathered on like a retarded, ten year old girl. This Pavi was different, more like his brother, bereft of the snake's allure or the laughable flamboyance. The drugs had pushed him from silly to severe. He was not intoxicated, but mad._

"_No-a, Magdalene, you are not in yours-a!" Paviche knocked over a chair. It seemed he could read the thoughts of everyone present, and they were setting his blood aflame. "Who are you to-a lie and hide things? Nobody will-a tell me where you have been! And now you won't-a even-"_

_Magdalene grabbed Paviche by the front of his shirt._

"_I was on a European tour! Not so much for Blind Mag but for GeneCo, for Rotti Largo, and so for you. Is that not enough? It is not my fault if you don't believe it! Because I didn't tell you goodbye? Let you know myself I was leaving? Paviche, you would not have noticed anyway!"_

_She dropped the silk of his shirt like it was poison ivy and walked to the window, gazing out over the foggy city. She was very still, and Paviche thought that the ice in her veins might have turned her into a solid pillar of it. He rubbed the chin of his borrowed face without feeling it- a habit only- and thought. They were not telling him something. That must was clear. If Magdalene's veins were ice then his were fire. Paviche walked towards her, placing a scarred hand on her smooth shoulder. She cringed in disgust, and Paviche froze. She was repulsed by him. She was averting her eyes._

"_Tell me Magdalene, or you will-a regret it."_

"_Threats, little Paviche? Like father like son, I suppose."_

_And then…she laughed. _

"_Threats! If you could only hear yourself," she whispered. "Fine Paviche, do you want to know the truth? Do with it what you will. I was pregnant. And I didn't want you having anything to do with the child. I didn't want your breaths to mingle in the same city's air."_

_Paviche reeled back as if he'd been slapped._

"_Is…was it-a mine?" he choked. Electricity was charging through the hallways of his brain, flicking on lights and trembling as an earthquake would. And then, with the sharp snap and acrid smell of a match being lit, Magdalene lifted her face proudly and locked her eyes with his._

"_No." _

_Before he could cry or shake her, Magdalene turned around, gestured for her assistants, and made to leave the room. At the door she turned around and said, "Acknowledge me no more, Pavi Largo."_

_Blind Mag was blind to him._

_Pavi sank to the ground, trembling. Not in grief but repressed anger. She had been unfaithful. For how long? She'd been revolted by him, maybe the entire time. So what were her motives? What did she think their relationship would bring? Status, maybe, new opportunities. But no. Blind Mag had been wrong, and she would be sorry._

Paviche sank to the floor beside his bedroom door as it closed, tears wracking his body and pouring from his eyes in a relentless stream. But he could not feel them. Their heat landed on his borrowed face. Paviche retched onto the floor beside him and, after he'd finished, stared dumbly at the vomit. His hands were still shaking but he managed to peel away the face he wore, and dropped it into the puddle of filth.

Once you sold your soul to the Largos, you never got it back.

Paviche ground his teeth in anger at the name. What had been his mother's? It was written down somewhere, he was sure, but everyone who mattered had long forgotten it. He tried to call drag it from his memory, yearning beyond anything else to feel it on his lips. His mother's name had been musical, and the notes had once shaped his own identity for a short while before her death. Now only degradation lay on his tongue.

And loss. Paviche sobbed again, feeling the tears this time.

_Magdalene, Magdalene. _

He touched his face just as she had long ago, and felt the wetness on his fingers. The grief that had lay dormant for so long under a blue haze was emerging, rearing its monstrous head. Paviche cried, for how long he did not know. When the tears were spent he stood up, pulled a silk handkerchief from his vest with a flourish, and patted his face. The contact felt strange and unnatural, so he was exceedingly gentle.

Now to plan. A confrontation was inevitable, but what would happen after? He'd be murdered, no doubt. It would be made to look an accident, like stage harnesses snapping over a pointed fence. Paviche only hoped he could confirm his suspicious and at least leave with the satisfaction of being right, for once in his miserable, pathetic life.

"I know-a the truth, Amber," Paviche whispered, then froze. Magdalene had been right. Threats wilted on his tongue. He sounded foolish. He _was _foolish. Such crafted speech he'd developed. He didn't even sound like a real Italian! When had the bells fallen silent, and where did they lay now? Paviche walked to his mirror, repeating over and over again those four words. He would get it right before long. This one piece of himself was all that was left to rouse. After he was satisfied, Paviche would find his mother's name. With any luck, it would be the last thing to pass his lips.


	33. Lullaby

**Sorry for this long updating gap, folks. Forgive me? Please? I'll make it up to you by writing an entertaining one-shot. So send me suggestions! I'll pick the one I like best, or even incorporate a few ideas. ;) Send 'em via PM. Now that I'm back in school life should be more structured, including my writing.**

"FUCK!"

Graverobber whirled around, ready to swing at…what? What was there to punch? His arm ached sharply with the movement, but he disregarded the pain and ran up the steps. Somehow, he knew Shilo wouldn't be close. She had run. When kids like Shilo ran, they kept on running. This knowledge was intimate to Graverobber, and he felt a curious chill down his spine. _What if she didn't come back?_

With loud treads Graverobber bound down the hallway, nearly knocking Blue down in the process. She latched onto his arm and started with shock at the look on his face.

"Have you seen Shilo?" he quickly asked.

"Um, no. What the fuck happened? Isn't the point to _not _lose Shilo?"

Graverobber shook her hands away. "I scared her, okay?"

"You sc…what did you do, put on a sheet and yell boo?"

"I'm going look for her."

Blue ran to keep up with Graverobber's long strides. "Let me come!"

"No, stay in case she…" there was a boisterous laugh from the front room Graverobber recognized. Shit. More complications.

"Go distract Riley."

Blue looked stunned, then incredulous. Graverobber quickly corrected himself. "Not with a fuck. I don't know, pretend you need a light bulb changed or something."

She looked ready to protest but Graverobber pushed her away and hurriedly slipped out the side of the building. It was completely black outside and eerily quiet. The city was huge. Shilo could already be…anywhere. She could have ran north, south, east, west…

Graverobber started walking his most familiar route, to the part of the city _Shilo _was most likely as familiar with, too. The graveyard was this way, and so was the deserted Wallace home. As he moved nimbly through people and ducked in and out of alleys Graverobber's dread only grew. This was ridiculous. His best hope was that Shilo would have the sense to return to The Glow, or maybe Riley's current headquarters. But everyone in the city knew her face. Everyone knew the Largos wanted her. Greedy hands scratched the walls of every corner, and she was at their mercy.

A voice hissed into his ear, one that was familiar but different all at once. The mind can do that with memories. _Let her go. _

* * *

The latch was stuck. With a few quick jerks Shilo shook it loose and slipped inside, the heavy door slamming behind her. She leaned against the wall and tried to catch her ragged breath, but dust flew into her throat and made her choke. Marni Wallace's eyes stared at Shilo's coughing fit, stared at her face that was red with exertion and tears. She looked disgusted.

"What did you ever do?" Shilo said to the painting. "What did you ever do but die?" Hands and legs trembling with equal intensity, she climbed onto the empty crypt and screamed at the graven image of her mother.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?"

Her tails were clawing at the thin canvas, ripping away pieces of the faded color. The backdrop first, then the trail of Marni's dress.

"STOP…STARING! STOP STARING! STOP IT! GO AWAY! GO AWAY!"

Pieces of the painting fell around Shilo as she sobbed. It had happened to fast, and now her throat was raw from screaming. Her fingernails were sore. Through the blur of tears she noticed something strange on the wall, behind the gold frame. Shilo wiped her face, then stared dumbly at the safe.

"What…"

There was a keypad. Shilo bit her lip and typed in her mother's birthday, and when that didn't work the number equivalent of her name. Shilo tried her own as well, but nothing but a red beep. Her palms were itching to tear open the safe as she had the painting. What secrets were inside? What answers? It was incredibly odd for her father to put something like a safe in this vulnerable of a position- not even inside the house. Not in the attic, not underground. The crypt. The crypt in the cemetery. Shilo sank down onto the hard tomb and slipped off her heavy man's jacket and boots. She placed the vest on top of the jacket, the scarf on top of that, and fluffed the pile up like a pillow. The crypt was rather stuffy so she wouldn't need an improvised blanket. Shilo curled into her Jack clothes like a burrowing cat near some fireplace. As she settled into the makeshift bed she thought about Graverobber, and which of them had made the bigger blunder.

* * *

The needle fell from Demetri's hands with a clatter. Inside of him, a coin was spinning and spinning and spinning...

Things always fell apart, if they were even that cohesive in the first place. And still that coin at the center of his universe, spinning and spinning and spinning and spinning…

* * *

As soon as Graverobber's boots touched the hard churchyard soil, he knew there was no other place Shilo could gave gone. After all, the animal always runs back to its hole. Regardless of danger large or inconspicuous, living creatures will find the familiar places.

The tomb seemed to be peering down at him; the looming window-eyes assailed and cautioned.

_Don't worry, Lady Stone, your daughter is not in danger_, Graverobber thought. He ran his hands over the smooth door, feeling oddly solemn. The knob turned under his hand, and a gust of cold air hit his face. Cliché, but as such for a reason. Shilo was curled on the slab of stone underneath her heavy man's coat. Her brow was furrowed in an unpleasant sleep, lips trembling. For the second time Graverobber lifted up Shilo from the grime and, cradling her to his chest, left the mausoleum. Its eyes followed him.

* * *

"Do you know any bedtime stories?"

Graverobber looked up with a start. He'd thought Shilo had been long asleep, and had begun dozing himself. Her voice was wide awake, contradicting his assumption, and heavy with a sadness usually found in the old and lonely.

"What?"

"Bedtime stories," Shilo murmured in the darkness. Graverobber was sitting on the floor against the bed, and her little voice was hot on his ear. "When I was feeling sick, super sick, and everything hurt, and I couldn't sleep- Dad would tell me stories of faraway places and adventures..."

Her voice caught, and she continued more quietly, as if fighting back a sob.

"It was almost worse than the pain, but sweet too. These beautiful things I'd never see or do." Pause. "Do you know any happy ones?" she asked hesitantly.

"I know lots of stories, kid." Graverobber's voice sounded unrecognizable to him. "But none of them are happy ones."

This fell between them and settled like a dead leaf in the silence.

"Tell me about Marcus then," Shilo finally said.

Graverobber pressed his hand to his chest, almost hissing. A bird was flying around in there, tweet twittering as it bounced off his rib cage, the chimney of his throat.

"There isn't much to tell," he began. "There was sunlight back then. Maybe there still is, but you'd never believe it being here. The colors were endless, and so was the air. Marcus was easily bored, however. Books and butterflies only amused him for so long.

There was also a mother, a father, and a younger brother. The mother was kind, the father evil tempered and crass. Marcus was nothing in his eyes, just a useless dreamer. Another mouth to feed in hard time. The summer Marcus turned 18 his home was the same as ever. The heat and the cows and the corn were the same as ever. But things had changed in the south. Things kept quiet. But regardless of what we knew or suspected the refugees came. They were filthy and, despite whatever devastation had pushed them north, loud…and _different. _Cajuns and gypsies, they made camps in the forests and abandoned fields. What they couldn't get by hunting, gathering, and growing they stole. Charity was hard to find then. What could anyone do? The farmers, the refugees…

Marcus met a friend in the camp, and was offered the clandestine option of escape."

Graverobber felt like a puddle, the low hot remains of a candle burned down. A raw version of himself made up of only lost sensations and flimsy, tattered memories. He could see it all so clearly now, though the images had been hidden beneath blood and debauch for so long: the patchwork tents fluttering in tantalizing wood smoke, the crazed dancers in a fit of limbs an rollicking music. He and Jessup swimming, running like savages, leading away golden skinned girls with hidden winks, talking about a world that was different and wide…and always, always that sharp glint in Jessup's sky colored eyes. It should have been recognized as a warning. And when the old fortune telling crone had gotten the strangest look when she read his cards. The tower. The Black Man. Fire…

Graverobber realized he'd spoken the last word out loud.

"What fire?"

"Nothing," Graverobber said, almost snapping but checking himself. Enough of that. Enough. A frenzied yell was trying to claw its way out of his throat, because now the box was opening too widely. He squinted at Shilo through tired eyes and blue fringed darkness. She placed her palm against his cheek and Graverobber almost shattered irrevocably under the kind touch. He removed her hand and kissed it, somewhere under the thumb.

"I'm…I'm glad that Marcus…"

Shilo started, but Graverobber quickly cut her off by dropping her hand gently onto the blanket.

"Get some sleep, kid."

Shilo settled in, but he could hear her stirring. She wouldn't sleep now, not with the weight of his mind pressing onto her already heavy one. So Graverobber did the only think he could think of and began to sing softly, the deep gravel of his voice completely at odds with the song. In his mind he heard them sang by someone else, sweet and far away. The words remained even after Shilo's breath eased, even after his own eyes closed.


End file.
